I went before a judge, crapped in his arms, saw five different grandparents, had some surgery on my tinkle nozzle, got addicted to children’s Tylenol, recognized the problem, went to rehab (in my mind), kicked the addiction (winning), went through some withdrawal, then gained a few pounds on the road to recovery. All the while, I’m teething like a bull shark and trying to learn how to crawl – which I believe to be my ticket to freedom. So far, I haven’t been able to do much more than undulate in place on all fours before flopping onto my belly. So I’m pretty close.

If you’re wondering what kind of procedure I had done on my mystery bits, Father has been telling everyone it was a length reduction.

I’m 7.5 months old, and I’m already going before a judge. I thought I’d have at least two or three years under my Sansabelt before I started having court dates, but on Thursday, June 16, I will be dressed in my finest jump-a-roo and becoming an US citizen. And by that, I mean that my adoption will be certified, bona fide, official, legal, and too legit, too legit to quit.

I’m pretty sure there will be a parade to follow with exotic animals, decorative floats, marching bands, fireworks, confetti bazookas, military fly-overs and vendor carts peddling the finest carnie food this side of the Red River.

That’s all well and good, but I shall celebrate this occasion modestly with my patented Crap ‘n’ Nap.

This is me raging against the machine. The machine in this case is the floor, and the perplexing magical power it uses to prevent me from rolling onto my back.

I cannot go through life with the ground as my enemy. We must call a truce.

Wait, I mean I rule and drool. It seems the first announcement of chiclet growth was premature, but now I’m definitely teething. Or, fanging, if you will.

I’m expelling so much saliva, I’m worried about dehydration. To prevent this, I will begin a steady intake of Mountain Dew. At least two liters per day.

Also, my clothes are constantly damp, which is irritating. So I think I’ll just go unitard/diaperless and freeball it for a while. So if you see a saliva geyser with full-body fat rolls, frolicking naked with a giant bottle of bright green soda pop – that’ll probably be me. Feel free to say hello.

There’s something in the Second Amendment that has me troubled:

“…the right of the people to keep and arm bears shall not be infringed.”

So not only do I have to be on the lookout for bears that want to steal my salmon, I also have to assume they’re all packin’ heat. That’s why I had to administer a stranglehold on this grizzly and pat him down for weapons.

Then I put his entire face in my mouth. A wresting match ensued. It was declared a draw.