I am progressing. I am now five months old and can eat strained peas from a spoon. I aint quite ready for saltimbocca alla romana. For that one must have teeth. Gimme a few more months. The advent of spoons and strained peas does, however, stimulate contemplation of my exciting future experiences, in which I expect to experiment with all things exciting except cigarettes and recreational drugs. YUK! No one with any sense smokes any more. And recreational drugs are for losers.

     I know that Dad is excitedly looking forward to the days when he will hear stories of all the edgy things I like to do, probably from Mum who will be upset that I may be risking my movie star good looks doing dangerous stuff. Oh well. I expect sometime in the not too distant future to read the stories of Grandpa Muldoon’s biker years, and to become greatly enthused by all the mindless fun he had pissing away what might have meant a much larger divorce settlement for Grandma Sally.

     I have a feeling that Mum and Dad would be just as grateful if I found some more laudable person to emulate and more useful diversions. These are not the days when Grandpa Muldoon was doing his “stuff”. Nowadays one has to be much more serious and focused if a really good life is to be in the offing. No girl of the sort I will probably want to marry would want to hitch her star to some wild man hard drinking biker type. Of course, applying my own special kind of logic, it will be quite a while before I will be ready to marry anyone, so maybe in that interim it could be OK to have some exciting experiences and maybe also meet some of the same kinds of girls that used to glom on to Grandpa Muldoon. I know he didn’t meet them in church. I think I may need to talk with Grandpa to learn how he managed to do what he did without getting into some real and lasting difficulty. Mum says that what he got himself into was real and lasting difficulty in most senses of that expression. She says that Grandpa dwelled upon the fun aspects of his “adventures” and wasn’t very forthcoming about the more unpleasant moments.

     She suggests that I might consider, for instance, mountain bikes rather than 185 mph motorcycles. I’ve started doing some on line research about that, and it looks like mountain bikers have a lot of real experiences too, except that there is a wussification movement amongst the mountain bike folks just as Grandpa lamented in the instance of motorcyclists.

     In one on line article, it was noted for instance that the leader of the mountain biker group was one Saint Gunnar of Shogren (wherever that may be – In West Virginia, I think), “the coolest biker ever to wear a mullet”. He was known to give instructions to other bikers about overcoming large barriers and carrying your bike over barriers and creeks that you couldn’t just ride through. Saint Gunnar wouldn’t associate with any Hot Todd wimp bunny hoppers who weren’t man enough to ride routes with really hard terrain features. He was known to say “Trix are for wabbits. Bike cross is for men and women who believe in the triumph of pain over style.” That kind of talk sounds a lot like Grandpa Muldoon, but without the motorized mayhem that he lived and loved.

     I don’t need to be known as Saint Gunnar of the rough and tumble. I would prefer to have quiet interludes after rides in which I am reasonably clean and appropriately dressed for some Rioja and tapas. I wonder what Rioja and tapas are. Hmmmmm. But I do intend to be in really great shape and capable of dealing with every situation I may encounter.

     For now, however, I need to concentrate on getting out of diapers.

     Mum says that I ought to think about kindergarten/pre school and grammar school before jumping right into my teenage years. I know that is much more logical, but I’ve never heard of anyone having great adventures in pre school and grammar school. Neither Mum nor Dad ever regale me with stories about their preschool and grammar school days. How exciting could they have been? I am very happy that by then I will be walking and not wearing diapers. I will have teeth and can eat just about anything. WOW!

     There are some very strange issues associated with pre school enrollment here in Oakland County, Michigan. There are various levels of Pre School, from the discussions I hear between Mum and Dad on the subject. Getting into line for pre school admission at some of the fanciest is an entrance examination process in which kids who can hardly keep from soiling their training pants must be presented to registrars who must have degrees in child psychology. These strange – to say the least – people put us through various intelligence, coordination and social adjustment tests that they believe help to identify kids who are “the right sort”. What in God’s name is “the right sort”? Grandpa Muldoon believes that these people are terrible and that the object of the process is to identify personality types that are susceptible to regimentation in preparation for participation in organizations. The organizations include business corporate organizations and other Stepford Wives pigeon hole designations calculated to avoid individualism and creativity. If he were given a vote, he would bypass those kinds of pre schools. His theory is that children are like flowers and should be permitted to bloom as their natures may direct, in their own seasons and in their own manner. I don’t know whether he will have any say in the matter, but I hope that I am not sent to some place like that. Maybe Grandpa can teach me how to flunk all their tests.

     I hear that we may be going to visit Grandpa Muldoon and Belinda in Texas for Grandpa’s birthday in mid December. That will be great. I haven’t been in Texas since before I was born. Mom tells me that they have 18 kitty cats and that everything in their home is either about kitty cats that Belinda loves, or about pigs, which is what Grandpa claims to be. Somehow it seems a bit odd that a grown man would wish himself to be thought of as a pig. Oh well. Maybe that’s just something I will understand when I get older. Anyway, I wonder whether by then I will be able to eat strained meatballs. I will be about nine months old then.

     I hear that Mom is going out of town for a week to study for her board certification exams at some cram course in Baltimore. I’m really looking forward to Dad and I having time with just the two of us – you know – guy stuff. Maybe he will teach me all about tax law. I wonder what that means. He is very serious most of the time. I guess you have to be a serious person to do what he does. Maybe that’s why Grandpa Muldoon isn’t a tax lawyer. I bet we get to eat out a lot. I ought to get on line and find the restaurants around here that are known for serving really good baby food and that have valet parking.

     Mum is back from her cram course. She is ready to take her final board certification exams. I loved being around Dad so much, but I’m also happy Mom is back safe and sound. We are entering my first fall season on earth. The weather is changing. Mom says that soon it will begin to snow. What is snow anyhow? Is snow associated with snow jobs that I hear so much about? I heard Mom and Dad talking about the holidays that happen in the fall. They sound great. Grandpa Muldoon says that the next big holiday is the Feast of Saint Belinda that falls every year in the week of October 15th. Mom says that they celebrate it in Texas. It must be a regional holiday of some sort. I just Googled it up, and it’s all about Belinda, who is known as Saint Belinda. She actually lives with Grandpa Muldoon in Texas, according to the story. WOW! That’s really unusual. After that will be Halloween when we get to dress up in funny costumes and go around the neighborhood begging for candy. Now why would anyone do that?

     Then the really big holidays come around, Thanksgiving and Christmas. Thanksgiving, I am told, is celebrated by over eating and watching football. Mom says that it honors the Pilgrim Fathers that came to America to escape religious tyranny in England, landed at Plymouth Rock in Massachusetts and took all the land away from the Indians they met when they arrived. I didn’t know that they had television and could watch football games way back then. They must all have been New England Patriots fans.

     Christmas is the celebration of the birthday of the baby Jesus who came to save us from our sins and show us the way to live a decent life and find happiness and salvation. Now that’s my kinda guy. I know I’m going to look forward to celebrating His birthday. Do they celebrate Christmas in Texas too? I’ll have to ask Grandpa Muldoon about that.

     There seems to be a lot of talk about something called an election. Supposedly we are going to have a new President, whatever that means. The question is who will it be? What difference does it make who the President is? It seems to me that if you change who the President is every few years or so, it really can’t be that important. What am I missing? No one seems interested in talking to me about it. They must think that someone five months old wouldn’t understand. Talk about a bad attitude! Sheesh!

     One of the things I am now conscious of is that people come in different colors. I wonder what that means. How does it get decided what color a person will be? If you decide you don’t like being the color you are, can you change to another color? Other than the way people look, I don’t see any difference between people of one color and people of other colors. They seem to have families and go to work just like Mom and Dad. Some are doctors like Mommy, or lawyers like Daddy, and some do other things. Mom says people look different from one another just like flowers look different from one another, and that people can be beautiful just like flowers. That sure makes sense to me. Mommy is so smart.

     My clothes started to be tight. They used to be loose fitting. Mommy says that’s because I’m growing. I’m getting bigger. I’m about to become a toddler. WOW! Imagine that. A toddler! One day I will be as big as Daddy. Do they make diapers for people that big? Big people have teeth and can eat anything they like. I’m gonna have teeth soon, and I’m gonna eat steaks and french fries. I’m already getting tired of strained food. Yuk! Why don’t they have strained steaks and french fries?

     I heard Mommy and Daddy talking about a hurricane that happened in Houston where Grandpa Muldoon and Saint Belinda live. They said that it destroyed many buildings and flooded out some whole towns, but that Grandpa Muldoon and Belinda are just fine and never had anything bad happen at their house. All 18 of Belinda’s kitties came through the storm just fine. They can’t imagine how you take care of 18 kitties in a storm like that with the wind blowing over 100 miles an hour. Grandpa Muldoon said that Belinda had prepared for the storm all summer, expecting that this might be the year that a big storm came to Houston. She even trimmed the huge oak tree in their yard so that the wind would blow through its limbs and not blow it down. The tree is the kitties’ favorite place to play, and they climb all over it every day, chasing birds and squirrels that they can never catch. I can’t wait to see that when we go there in December.

     I’m getting tired of writing this. I think I’m going to just play with my toes and take a nap.