So tonight fer dinner, Mom made a casseroll, wift pastr, tomatoes an onions an like that. I watched her verree carefully as she cutted them up, so I kin learn how to cook. I am not shur why I wud want to cook the stuff she does, cuz it is mostlee ickee, but yu never noe.
And also she has puttid me on a “Dye-It,” which I thogtid wud mean that I wuz goin to get mai hair turned purple, wift maybee a Mohawk, but akshully it turn out to meen that I eet smaller meals more often rather than the othr way around. Huh. She is doin it too, but I don’t see her getting anee smallerer.
But! I hads a mind-blowin ideer. I seds to mai Mom, I seds to her, “Hey, Mom! I noe something else that rolls, jus like yer caseroll. It is a tricycle!!!”