My mommy decided that our coffee table is too dangerous for my precious little face. She muttered something under her breath that sounded like, "Finally, it took a baby to get rid of this dang table!" But then she told me she was worried about me cracking my skull open on the iron legs and poking my eyes out on the sharp wood corners. I'm not sure but I think she was smiling as she carried the table off to the barn. I wonder if I'll ever see it again? Now I have these super soft, squishy cube things that are great for drooling on and pounding.
My tounge is longer than yours!
If I blow hard enough, maybe my head will grow. Watch me turn around to the couch and then back to the cube!
Oops! That wasn't part of the plan! Jackson, stop licking my drool and help me up!