Samuel: the introduction

 

 

 

The door swung opened for Samuel and one of his parents. The Mommy dropped the groceries on the table and tossed Samuel into the playpen. “Be right back!” Mommy whisked out the door.

Samuel waited, listened. He had the time, the strength, and he could do this. Throwing the blue pacifier over the railing, Samuel hoisted his pwesuss whittl weggees over the railing and did a practiced roll. With his hands up for balance, Samuel began the newly discovered walking power: stagger-stagger-wobble. 

‘Focus, man, focus!’ The words hammered in his 14 month brain. ‘Ignore the Cheerios under the couch!”

Samuel reached the spot where he nailed Grammie with projectile vomit. She was saying, “Gwamma wuvs dose pwessus whittle wehgees…” Blaaaagh, and she stopped. Good times.

Almost there, Samuel pictured the freedom:  chase the kitty, taste the flowers, squish  mud. Such fine adventures, and he was almost there.

The Mommy swooped through the door and knocked over Samuel. She swept him up. “Mommy wuvs dose pwessus whittle waygees…”

Samuel tried to say, “Dammit woman! Can’t you speak the King’s English?” All that came out was a cry and some spit-up. The door swung shut.

This is from one of my blogs, the Chronicles of Samuel. This from 2011 or so.  I really loved Samuel's character. 

Samuel through the Open Door

https://www.control4.com/

The door swung open to Samuel's home, where his parents also lived. The Mommy dropped the groceries on the table and tossed Samuel into the playpen. “Be right back!” Mommy whisked out the door.

Samuel waited, listened. He had the time, the strength, and he could do this. Throwing the blue pacifier over the railing, Samuel hoisted his shwweet whittle weggies over the railing and did a practiced roll. With his hands up for balance, Samuel began the newly discovered walking power: stagger-stagger-wobble. 

‘Focus, man, focus!’ The words hammered in his 14 month brain. ‘Ignore the Cheerios under the couch!”

Samuel reached the spot where he nailed Grammie with projectile vomit. She was  saying, “Gwamma wuvs dose shwweeet whittle legees…” Blaaaagh, and she stopped. Good times.

Almost there, Samuel pictured the freedom:  chase the kitty, taste the flowers, squish mud. Such fine adventures, and he was almost there.

The Mommy swooped through the door and knocked over Samuel. She swept him up. “Mommy wuvs dose pwessus whittle laygees…”

Samuel tried to say, “Dammit woman! Can’t you speak the King’s English?” All that came out was a cry and some spit-up. The door swung shut.

Written 2012. Chronicles of Samuel blog site. 

Oh, how I love writing the unexpected.

Minor Level Destruction

Wikipedia

Samuel stared through the bars of the playpen as he groaned at just another incarceration.  What had he done?  Just the usual stuff, but this time?  

First, he had coughed up a ball of green-yellow phlegm, and spit it on a really old carpet beyond the bars, one that had been in great-grandma's house.  Heh, heh, heh. Then, Samuel had been charged with screaming loudly, marking graffiti on public walls in a diaper medium, and randomly destroying stuff. Good times.

But last one? It was epic.  With just a plastic knife, Samuel had repeatedly stabbed the arm of the couch, tossing foam and stuffing wherever they fell.  It did not end well. 

It was a reach for him, Samuel realized.  "Keep it simple" he reminded himself. Next time.

Samuel then realized that his diaper was beyond damp, and had begun  dripping.  With strong lungs only a two year-old toddler possesses, Samuel cried and sobbed. Mommy, mommy!  Sometimes being one who is not-yet-potty-trained is a blessing.  

A lot is forgiven when a diaper is full. 

This a post from 2014, using words from Wednesday Words. As always, great fun was had by all.