67 Pokes

It was inevitable…My family’s DNA set me up long before I was born to be itchy, wheezy, bloated, gassy and perpetually sneezing.

So begins round one of trying to figure out what lies beneath as the root cause of my allergies.

Enter, Nurse Mary.

My greeting to my new lady was “Hello, I Brennan.  You hair is long.  You have glasses.  You see my penis?  SEE!” [Good-Bye underpants]

Nurse Mary, “I’m not that kind of Doctor, Brennan.” [Smile]

Step One...The process began with Nurse Mary drawing smiley faces on my fingers.  Fun.  I’m all about coloring on things I’m not supposed to color.

Step Two…More markers & my back was gently tickled with her artful hand.  Still fun.

Step Three…All of her sweet talk, game play, song singing and promises of a toy reward quickly dissipated when I felt the first poke…and then the second…67 sticks to the back later I didn’t feel the same about Nurse Mary.

As a matter of fact, when the required time for me to lay still expired, I sat up, looked at that nurse lady & said, “YOU POKE ME! I KICK YOU!”

Of course I forgave her, she did give me hand sanitizer and a boingy toy after all.

Until next time, Nurse Mary.  See you soon.

Fancy Stuff...NOT For Kids

Mother…Please give me just a little credit for attempting to clean up the inevitable messes that I make (either intentionally or accidentally).  So when I make an effort to soak up the puddle around the toilet, I should not get in more trouble for using the “fancy bathroom towels.”

That’s right, my Mother has bathroom towels hanging in the bathroom that we are not allowed to wipe our hands on (or anything else, for that matter).

Who does that?!?

The issue here is not how the puddle got there (even if I was emulating a sprinkler and just the tiniest amount may have splashed outside the rim).  The issue, as I see it, is that I made an attempt to clean up said “mess” and that woman was upset that I chose the wrong vehicle for cleaning.

NEWSFLASH…I’m three and don’t care if your towels have elaborate embroidery and decorative tassels hanging from the edge.  They looked absorbent, so I used them!  End of story.

To sum it up…

Hang a rag, hang a sham-wow, hang a frickin’ fur pelt…I don’t care.  But if you want me to make any effort, don’t hang unusable cloths within my reach.