Although I've spent many, many nights at her house — sometimes invited, more often simply by dint of the fact that I can pick locks — this was the first time my baby has ever spent the night at my house. Because as you may know if you follow Whorrified, Piggly got off to a rough start. There were feeding issues, there were growth issues, there were hospital visits and feeding tubes and a relentlessly devoted young mother whose own health I began to worry about, but we've turned the corner now and Piggly is on pace to outweigh all of us by the time she hits her first birthday. In fact I'm beginning to suspect they're putting straight gravy in her feeding tube, because holy hamhocks, Batman! The last time I saw thighs that plump they came with a side of plum sauce for dipping.
Anyway, when I first learned that this visit was going to happen, I lost my natural mind. I mean, I'm hobbling around on crutches with an injured knee, yet I still managed to go organic-grocery shopping, limp to WalMart to buy a new vacuum cleaner and comb the house from top to bottom for tell-tale signs that I sometimes decorate with Crown Royal. (Not that there's anything wrong with that. It's just ... what if Wills and Kate stop by?)
I could fill 15 posts with the fun my Piggly and I got up to, the cuddling, the tickling, selfies, the bonding, the aching melting joy of it all, but I think the important thing is that we managed to revive a once-proud tradition that had all but disappeared: the game of Things on Piggly Wiggly's Head. Yeah, that's right, that game. The one you all used to think was cruel but now that we've learned she's one click away from becoming royalty you're all like "Good lord, yes; get that helpless little head ready for a CROWN!" Hypocrites. *bows head, performs cleansing anasyrma* And yet we forgive you.
|AT FIRST, IT SEEMED A BIT CRUEL, this Things on Piggly's Head game. But the child took to it like a Crown to Royal and by God, she enjoys it more than I do now. If that's even possible.|