Merinda's Page

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Dear Diary,

here I am, barely 42 weeks into this life, it's a sunny afternoon in California, Mum's in loose-fitting, multicoloured clothing, it's like something out of the late 1960s. I suppose I should be grateful that the floral wallpaper has gone. It's embarrassing. Don't they keep up with the times in this house? What about 1980s and greed being good? What happened to nice, healthy 1990s assertiveness? That is more my speed.

So corny...

Oh...

I can't take it any longer. Let's see if this grenade gets them on their toes.

Ever tried to pull out the pin with your teeth when you haven't got any teeth? The manufacturers of these things never think of us babies...

Damn. I'll throw it anyway. Take that.

Another dud. These baby grenades are useless! Fizzers, the lot of them! Not one has worked right! You could not blow your way into a toy basket with this futile thing. I expected a military professional like Uncle Gregor to have been able to tell the difference between live and dud.

Diary: 41 weeks
Diary: 39 weeks
Diary: 37 weeks
Diary: 34 weeks
Diary: 31 weeks
Diary: 29 weeks
Diary: 27 weeks
Diary: 26 weeks
Diary: 25 weeks
Diary: 24 weeks
Diary: 5 months
Diary: 21 weeks
Diary: 4 months
Diary: 16 weeks
Diary: 3 months
Diary: 13 weeks
Diary: 10 weeks
My First 2 Weeks

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