Guest Writer

This is Henry.
Mommy is kind of a blog-hog. Yeah, yeah, I know, mostly what she writes about is me, but I think I oughtta set the record straight a bit. (Besides, my buddy G-love writes his blog and he's just 6 weeks old. But Mommy says that if I must blog, I must do it fully clothed. I tried to explain about how G-love does it in the buff and she went all "if he jumped off a bridge" on me. Why is it always someone jumping off a bridge?) I have, however, decided to let Mommy be my photographer.
So, I'm a big kid now.
No. I still poop in my pants. Don't get that excited. My buddy Nano goes in the potty and if you ask me, that just interferes with the playing. I like to poo on the go. I've heard Mommy say that she has 3 requirements before she'll start "the training." The first is that I must be able to say the word potty, second I must correctly answer the question 'Do you have poop in your pants?," and three, I must be able to pull off my own pants. Well, the thing is Mommy, you know I can strip down on my own, but I'm gonna hold off on saying potty for awhile and why do you need me to tell you there is poop in my pants when you can so obviously smell it. You're already making me learn how to crawl in and out of my car seat on my own, so please, cut me some friggin' slack. (Yeah, I said friggin'. I know, I'll probably get taken into the dining room and talked to.)
But I'm a big kid because I now sleep in a big kid bed. And it isn't just any big kid bed--it's Mommy's big kid bed, so it is wicked old. The coolest things about the bed are that Mommy can sit in it with me to read me books and it is made of balls. Balls, I tell you. BALLS! Mommy says some people count sheep. I count balls. (Right now, Mommy is laughing because I keep typing the word balls. But I don't know what it so funny about balls.) And Mommy even put in my new bed the nap lengthener with my two new books I got for my happy birthday--Curious George goes to the Zoo and Thomas Gets Tricked. Sweet!
Mommy put the bed together all on her own, which made Daddy mad because apparently Mommy has a hard time listening to Daddy and remembering what he says. I think I can use this against her in the future. Apparently "forgetting" something means it is okay to ignore Daddy's request.
Mommy says I should hurry up and show you guys some pictures. She also says I've picked out too many pictures. But Mom, have you seen me? I'm cute. My Auntie Robin says I'm objectively cute--Not just, oh I love you because you're my child cute, but as in the cuteness to which other babies are measured. So no, Mommy, I do NOT think I've picked too many photos.

This me right after Mommy got done putting the bed together having a post-nap sippy of milk while reading a book. And yeah, I'm wearing pink. And no pants.

There is also this cool railing that comes up. This is why this bed is better than my crib. The crib just seemed unnatural missing a side and I did not like that. At all. And these bars are made of balls! Whoopee!

Mommy needs to shorten the nap lengthener. It kind of droops below the matress now and I have to dig out the books. But I'm pretty good at digging, so it works for now.

Gratuitous picture of me loving Dog. (Yes, Mommy, I know it is a bunny. Get off it, already. He is a bunny named Dog. Once again, my bunny, I can call him whatever I want.)

Mommy told me it was time to get down off my new bed. She seems to think that just because she tells me to do something and now it is easy for me to do it, that I will obey. Sorry, Mommy, I "forgot" to listen. Also, Mommy, you can take Dog and Dog-Dog away all you want, but seriously, you know you love to sleep too much to keep them away from me at night.

I do not want to get down from this bed. And why did you throw Dog and Dog-Dog out into the hall. Does the snapping photos of me when I'm in distress help, Mommy?