The continuing exploits of Mr. Finnegan as he conquers the world with his cuteness.

At the risk of being immodest, I must ascribe to myself the particular compliment of inventor of a new and most excellent pastime. I have created a new game that I call “Peek-a-boo 2010”. As a creature of the previous decade (I was born in 2009) I felt that the dawning of a new decade demanded an entirely new focus on the future. The tried and true methods of “Peek-a-boo” as practiced by all and sundry have grown most dated and stale. In short the game is in need of a freshening.

Voila:

Where did I go?

Deft application of fine and gross motor skills and:

Here I am!

Repeat the process as many times as needed. I find that at least 10 repetitions are necessary for the desired effect. Giggling is optional, but highly reccomended.

I really do feel that I am finally getting into the swing of things.

Swing of things

Mother took me for a leisurely circumabulation about the park by the Cowlitz River. A stroll on the beach was followed, as night follows day, by a visit to the local swing set. Dare I say it was exquisite?

I do believe I like this

This must be revisited in the future. Make a note: swings are fabulous!

It was on a dark and windy night, as I sat alone in the cold wilderness, I heard a sound that sent chills up my spine. I knew that sound, it was the sound of my nightmares. It was the sound of a chicken on the prowl. I frantically looked in every direction for some avenue for escape, but to no avail. Once a chicken has scented human it never ceases the chase until . . .

Surrounded! Chickens on every side! This surely is the end . . .

The Humanity!

Actually it was a sunny day, and I was watching father doing some chores, when the chickens made a break out from the orchard to dig in the freshly stirred dirt. And instead of chasing me down and devouring me, they merely gathered about me and gave me a great show of scratching and pecking.

I just thought I would add a taste of drama to my blog, but I can see now that this was wrong. I have insulted my chicken friends. And believe me, you do not want to make them angry. . .

Met a Leprochaun on my way through the woods and he gave me a magic bean that grew the biggest potato in the world. I will never want for potato. And I will never get pinched on St. Patrick’s Day, thanks to Grandma Pat and Grand Auntie Mary.

How Green was my Baby

Standing, sitting, moving from standing to sitting, and now CRAWLING! These are the elements of my new repetoire. Once I perfect my modern dance routine I will post a short performance to this blog.

Who's the Leprochaun now?

I did consider moving to Ireland, but then I thought better of it. They can just move Ireland here.

It has of late become my duty to supervise the yard work of our grounds crew. It is difficult work, but I must be diligent and observe my workers constantly as they go about the task of trimming the bushes and piling debris. I sit in my chair and signal my approval or disapproval of all that is done as my minions scramble about attending to my wishes. I scarcely have any time for myself as the crew requires so much supervision!

Boss Finn

My workers, most notably Mother and Father, cannot be left to their own devices, or surely they would dawdle and lallygag.  It takes a firm hand, but it is not on my watch that such shiftless rabble shall have free reign! I tell them it is for their own edification and improvement and that I am teaching them the value of a hard days work, but really I simply enjoy sitting in the fresh air and tending to my chewing.

It is lucky for me that I am a natural leader, else I would perhaps be put to labor as the others have done. But alas, each of us has our role to play in this cosmic dance that is called “yardwork”.  Uneasily lies the head that wears a crown.