7:30 a.m.---I have awakened. My loyal servants are drawn by my plaintive but sweetly-tuned demands: Up! Out! Mama! Biscuit! 'ilk! I throw in an additional syllable here and there to keep them sharp and finely tuned to my understanding of the world. I would prefer it if I could get my diaper changed and get out of the bedroom at the same moment, but that doesn't happen anymore, not since they figured out how fast I can roll over and run away without a diaper on. Fools! As soon as I figure that trick out, I'm going to blow this pop stand and world dominion is mine.
8:00---I enjoy a leisurely breakfast of cereal, granola bar, milk, and/or fruit. Then it's time for some roaming and playtime. If the toy makes noise or dust, it's the best to be found. Those popcorn-poppers and jack-in-the-boxes are genius! If I make enough noise, I might get sent out to play in the yard. Yippee!
9:00---There are so very many rocks in the world, so many to collect and bang together and taste, and then dip in the dirt and taste again. Maybe dip in a puddle and try that, too. The Bigs always yell about that, but they don't see me every second, and I can get in a good smorgasbord in less than a minute. I find shiny beige rocks deceptively bland-looking, but they can be quite smooth to the taste; plain old brown rocks are often just gritty. But there are some that I just can't resist along the garden border. I don't know what kind of rocks those things are, but they taste better than Grandma's cookies.
11:00---Time for some lunch. If I can, I'll scope out lunch in a couple of places---home, Grandma and Papa's house, or the neighbors---and find the one I like best. Or I might have a little at all three if everybody has a tasty spread that day. Then I give the Bigs a break by engaging in something they call "naptime." For a couple of hours, I hang out in my crib marshaling my troops, while I'm "sleeping." So far I have a giraffe, a frog, a couple of dogs, several monkeys, and a whole army of bugs. We have long discussions about offensive moves and troop formations in preparation for the day we make our move to really break out of this joint.
3:00---It's afternoon shift time, and I've about had enough of the tomfoolery around here. "Drink your milk!" "Pick up your toys!" "Don't you do that!" "I'm going to count to..." "Move back from the television!" All I want is a little peace while I veg out to Mickey Mouse Clubhouse...or Sophia the First.....or Doc McStuffins. Mickey isn't a great commander like I am, but he has a brilliant footman named Toodles who comes running whenever he calls. I vow each day to get my own Toodles so he can supply me with Goldfish and flour tortillas whenever I want one.
7:00---Dinner. It's time to charm the Bigs with my cute table antics. I give them a few grins and winks and eat everything on my plate....or seemingly so. They can't see me dropping my beans down the air conditioning vent behind my chair. This is essential, because I want the fruit, fruit bar, ice cream, or even the single cookie that is often provided if I finish my plate. Can they possibly have no idea that sugar is the "uranium" that will one day fire my reactor to bring about my escape?
7:30---Bathtime is a dangerous time. If I'm being watched closely, it may seem odd that I line up all my water animals and review the troops each night. I've found that I can deal with that occasionally, though, by suddenly sweeping them over the side of the tub with a wave of water. While the Big on patrol yells and grumbles about picking up the "toys," I am re-establishing communication with the brave soldiers on the line. They must be kept sharp. The bathtub letters and numbers aren't to be trusted; they keep trying to spell out words of escape on the tile wall.
8:00---Bedtime is the one comforting element of this day. Baby lotion, clean pjs, books, and a cup of milk---shoot, I can drag all that out to an hour at least. I don't even have to think about it.
8:15---The little commander is knocked out, for a few hours, at least. Peacefully, sleep has silenced that perfectly inventive, creative, normal little 2-year-old brain, and the world is safe for at least one more day.
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