Fiery Little Irishman

 

When I was born, the nurse commented that I was a "Fiery Little Irishman," and added, "Great things to have: red hair and attitude."  I'd show you the video clip of the nurse saying this, but I can't.  You see, and little does Mommy know, my entire delivery was caught on video.  The only problem is that The Learning Channel (TLC) has exclusive rights to it.  The picture above of when I'm about 15 minutes old will have to suffice.  So why do I bring this up?  Well, my fiery nature and attitude presented itself yesterday at story time.  I'll tell you about it while I do my standing and walking exercise:

So as I was saying... I was at story time yesterday and was having a bit of a rough time with things.  I was happy to be there but I just woke up from sleeping in the car and I think my bearings were a little off.  I sat down to play with the twin boys who for some reason wear cool space-like helmets.  Looking at these helmets typically keeps me preoccupied throughout the entire time of story.  Yesterday, however, they were not wearing their helmets.  So, I'm sitting there when one of the twins crawls up to me with what I perceived as a crazed look in his eyes.  I didn't know what to do or think with him not wearing his helmet.  Instead, my deep and apparently fiery attitude was summoned and I reached out and smacked him on the face.  It didn't faze him.  He came at me again and so I let him have another.  This time I got my point across and he started crying.  He cried loud and everyone looked at him and me.  I played innocent and like I was just protecting myself.  It turns out the crazed look was excitement because he had very recently learned how to crawl.  Finally, he calmed down and story time began, but not before I proceeded to spit up all over myself (remember that Daddy was trying to feed me a little extra for today's doctor appointment?).  Daddy cleaned me up as best as he could but I had wet spots on my sleeve, belly, and pants.  Then we read stories and sang songs that I didn't know.  The songs were about something known as a dreidel used during eight holiday days.  I was lost and had no rhythm, not to mention that I gave off a sour, acidic smell.  I thought they would ask me to leave the library due to my conduct and the odor I gave off.  By the end, though, everything was back to normal.  Daddy said that story time next week would be a little more applicable to our holiday and that he would not over-feed me.  Let's just hope that word doesn't get around to the story time I'm going to tomorrow in the next town over.  That would be very embarrassing.