The diabolical big eyes

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 As Logged By:


Agent Rose


There’s a toy tiger in the window,

Sitting right next to a pink flamingo.

His little spots are so, so cute.

But, Daddy thinks I should get a flute!


A flute will be nice, or maybe five.

Especially to torment parents while they drive.

But, this diabolical baby wants her tiger.

Here come the eyes with a little, “Grr.”

 

 

“No, Rosie. You don’t need a toy tiger. You already have a teddy bear from your friend, West.”


Ah, yes. My adorable, abominable, stinkety stink bear. He’s cute and cuddly and perfectly stinky when I want to surprise someone with a toot, but I’d like a tiger. Please, Daddy. Please, please, please!


“Oh, don’t you dare give me those adorable eyes. I’m getting you a flute.”


A flute? Hmm… let me think about that.


A flute might be nice. I could certainly use it to my advantage against Mommy and Daddy. It could prove quite diabolical.


Have you just fallen asleep? Here, let me give a blast with my flute. Needing some quiet while you drive? Here, how about a flute’s kaboom!


“Try it, Sweetie. You might find you like music.”


Daddy hands me the flute. A little plastic stick with holes in the side. Okay, let’s see what this baby can do.


HHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA


Daddy’s eyes are ready to pop. His body shaking like a rocket about to go off.


Hmm…


Maybe this could work after all.


HHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA


“Okay, that’s enough of that!” Daddy tries to keep calm as he grabs the flute out of my hand. “Your Mom said that she wants you to get into music…” Poor Daddy is trying to do some quick thinking, but he’s still too rattled to do anything other than shaking.


Maybe I should help him in making his decision.


I slowly widen my eyes, a little more, and a little more. All the way until they’re nice and round.


Already he’s starting to melt. The shaking has stopped, his concentration completely on me. “What is it, Sweetie?”


Here come the diabolical big, big eyes. So wide, Daddy fears that I might cry.


I look over at the toy tiger. The one with the spots, who’s sitting next to the flamingo.


Looking back over at Daddy, with eyes that warn, Give in to my demand or suffer my adorable wrath, I point at the tiger.


“You want the tiger instead of the flute?” He hands me the tiger and looks down at the flute, his face scrunching in a debate. “A tiger is quieter than a flute…”


Alright, I need to take this up a notch.


With the cutest, round eyed expression I can muster, I lift up my tiger and give a little, “Grr!”


“Aww, I can’t say, ‘no,’ to that,” Daddy pouts, about to lose all parental control.


Mission a success?


The tiger in my hands says, “yes!”

 

 Upcoming Log:  Diabolical greens

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