Please do not read this bloggy. Even though nothing bad happens at all, I know that you do not enjoy stairs like I do.
Okay, everyone-except-my-dada, this is me on the top of the stairs, wearing no shorts, and holding a dog bone.
What, Mama? I do not wish to come to breakfast. I wish to play on the stairs.
What? You say there is a chocolate chippie at the bottom of the stairs? I shall investigate.
Got to check the lock, make sure I can get back on the stairs. Okay, it looks good.
Wait! I think this is Trap! Abort, abort! Retreat!!!
What, Mama? TWO chocolate chips? Hmm... Two chocolate chips is too good to be a trap.
Must confirm unlockedness of the gate. Okay, it is good.
Approach with caution...careful, careful.
Two chocolate chippies! Yippee!
Ack! Mama close gate! Mama is terribly mean. Horribly, terribly mean.
I MUST BITE THE COUCH IN PROTEST!
Wait, was I upset about something? It couldn't have been important, I have a chocolate chippie in each hand.
Here, Baby, would you like a taste of my chocolate chippie?
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the end of my story. And that dot on my chin could not possibly be chocolate.
Love,
Elizabeth
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