Diabolical Croissants and Scones
As Logged By: Agent West A Mommy's afternoon luncheon Has me feeling stuck in a dungeon. A chicken salad croissant Is not what I want. A scone is all I get to eat. While I itch in my seat. Gurgle, gurgle, with every bite. Something's not sitting right. I'm stuck in a high-chair with a blue polka dotted bow-tie. How in diabolical names did I get stuck here? First it was a horse show with a mock cowboy outfit, now I look like a silly billy at some fancy shmancy... thing. What is this thing I've been dragged to? It isn't lunch and it can't be snack. No one with half a brain would eat whatever that grey stuff on the cracker is. All the mommies are dressed in old fashioned dresses and nearly every other baby was smart enough to pretend to be sick to get out of coming to this. "Oh, dearest Tanya," Mommy breathlessly talks like someone from those corny romance novels she hides in...