Anyone who has spent much time with the boys would probably agree that Hesperos is the dog and Helios is the cat.
The Dog's Diary
8:00 am - Dog food! My favorite thing!
9:30 am - A car ride! My favorite thing!
9:40 am - A walk in the park! My favorite thing!
10:30 am - Got rubbed and petted! My favorite thing!
12:00 pm - Milk bones! My favorite thing!The Cat's Diary
Day 983 of my captivity. My captors continue to taunt me with bizarre little dangling objects. They dine lavishly on fresh meat, while the other inmates and I are fed hash or some sort of dry nuggets. Although I make my contempt for the rations perfectly clear, I nevertheless must eat something in order to keep up my strength.
The only thing that keeps me going is my dream of escape. In an attempt to disgust them, I once again vomit on the carpet. Today I decapitated a mouse and dropped its headless body at their feet. I had hoped this would strike fear into their hearts, since it clearly demonstrates my capabilities. However, they merely made condescending comments about what a "good little hunter" I am. Evil people!!
7:00 am - You're changing my diaper? I love you! Oooh, those wet wipes look so delicious!
7:15 am - Yay, a drive into daycare for the next 45 minutes! That makes me so happy! Daddy is cursing at the other drivers. It makes me giggle! Helios is staring at my toy because he wants to wrench it from me. Here, Helios, have my toy! Oh, look...feet! My favorite thing!
8:00 am - Daycare, you say? The next 9 hours in a room with a bunch of other babies, none of whom who are as happy as I am? Yay, my favorite thing!
8:30 am - Diaper change! My favorite thing!
8:45 am - Oooh, green beans for snack. My favorite thing!
9:15 am - My face is getting scrubbed. My favorite thing!
10:00 am - Crawling! My favorite thing!
10:30 am - Napping! My favorite thin...zzzzzzzzzzzz....!
Day 880. Every day is a new exercise in agony. Today I was warm and ensconced in blankets when the parental unit who calls herself "Mama" wrenched me from my warm cocoon and forced me into clothing. We walk to this torture unit called "the potty" where I take great satisfaction in leaving behind remnants of the unworthy meal they fed me last night. It never fails. No matter how stinky and disgusting I make it, that harpy of a woman and the oaf who is called "Daddy" continue to prattle on about how proud they are of me. Do they have no sense?
Later, I allow them to garb me in clothing befitting my station as an engineer-in-training: jeans and a Thomas the Tank Engine shirt. They mutter some incantation about "putting left foot in, taking the left foot out, shaking it all about." What does this mean? Must learn this strange voodoo they sing.
Ah, yes. Time for the car which the Daddy-oaf has warmed pleasantly for me. At least he has done something correctly. I'm lifted into my chair and pinned in by belt straps. No matter how much I examine them, I can't yet figure out how to break free. Will continue to contemplate. Meanwhile, that drooling buffoon who they tell me is my brother continues to stare at me while gnawing a teether. Strange. I never noticed that teether before. Give it to me! That's mine. MAMA! THAT'S MY TEETHER! Ah, yes. Clearly recognizing my superior intelligence, the cheerful imp hands over the teether. Mmmm...HEY! There's drool on this. Disgusting! No, no, I didn't say take it away. I'll still keep it. Now, drive, Daddy-oaf, drive my chariot.