Although I usually speak an alien baby language, Mom’s always worried I’m going to start spewing four-letter words like my Dad. Sure… he can be pretty funny when he hits his thumb with a hammer or runs into the coffee table with his knee, but the word that really strikes my baby fancy these days is litigious! As soon as I can say it, I’m gonna put it right to work!
What a great word! What a great concept! I’m pretty well-known for getting what I want when I want it, but this is a smoking backup plan for those few times when Grandma Mugger is a little slow with the raisins or Mom tries to make me eat brussels sprouts! Think babies are too cute to sue people; think they’d never be able to pull it off? Pphhht! Not true! Not true at all! I once kept an accusatory scowl on my face for a week and a half despite foot and chin tickling.
Exhibit I: Dog Attacks Mean Baby Greenbacks!
Dogs are occasionally useful beasts, but since they siphon off a portion of attention that could better shower down upon me, they’re ultimately expendable. When I sue Porter and he goes to the pound, I’ll still have Hogan to eat the food on the ground (damn! that even rhymes!), and honestly, I don’t think Hogan needs the help. Sometimes that horse starts eating my food BEFORE I throw it, and I’ve never seen him too full to finish the job. By throwing Porter under the bus for eating my right hand, I’ll have enough money to buy a second pony, better tasting sidewalk chalk, and a sippee cup that doesn’t leak whenever I try to sip from it. I also might start throwing with my left hand… bonus for Dad!
Exhibit II: Away From Home Alone Equals Latte Foam!
If you’re a small person that prefers to walk rather than be carried, eventually you will hear something like, “ok… well… we’re leaving… bye, Abigail!” This threatened separation used to scare me. I used to run up to my parents with the universal, arm-raised pick-me-up immediately if not sooner sign. Now I know that this warning merely offers me an opportunity to own my own house in Massachusetts, my own Honda, and my own Toyota. Go ahead, big people, leave me in my diaper in the wilderness and see how you like it when I’m setting the bedtimes, choosing the menu, and picking the outfits for the day. What do you know? Another pink outfit for you before we sit down to a nice meal of peanut butter!
Exhibit III: Kissing Cousin Can Kiss College Savings Goodbye!
My cousin is a good guy… well… when he’s not trying to play with the same toy I am. It would be a shame to have to threaten to go on Oprah and expose him as a pint-sized predator, but if a girl needs a Barbie Dreamhouse new set of Ping Irons, a girl has got to do what a girl has got to do. I used to think these people were annoying as hell snapping all these pictures of mundane baby activities (not to mention shots of me in the bathtub!), but now I recognize the power of photographic evidence on gullible juries, so keep snapping away, people!
Oh no… gotta go! I’ve got a voicemail from Saul!
