That was fun!

Can we go around the house again? Just one more time before it's time to go in the trunk. 

Pretty please?

I hope the building inspector doesn't come today.

There's no way I was built up to code. One earthquake – or flying toddler toy – and I'll be reduced to rubble.

Do I really need all this stuff?

I know you're supposed to have a lot of school supplies, but this seems a bit excessive. Do I really need a shopping cart full of pull-ups, socks, tights and underwear?

I like playing dress up...

...but I'm really looking forward to Master W. growing up a little so he can take me back. I can't wait to ride on trucks and battle space aliens, or whatever the heck it is little boys like to do.

In the meantime, I guess I'll go shopping.

I used to be her favorite.

Now I'm stuck here in the corner, collecting dust. Maybe someday she'll see me and want to flip through my pages again.

We had so much fun together. Now all I have are tattered pages and sweet memories.

I'm insulted.

It's bad enough that they insist on filling me with water most days. But juice? That's just adding insult to injury.

You ever get the feeling...

... that you're being watched?

Is it getting hot in here...

... or is it just me?

Forget it.

There's no way Miss C. is going to choose one of you ordinary beads for this necklace. She wants class. She wants style. She wants to set fashion, not follow it.

Clearly, she needs an elephant bead, maybe even three or four.

Psst...

I know your mommy said not to play with her sewing stuff, but don't you think it would be fun to try out her sewing machine?

Just this once...

A few more bites and I'll be free.

Whoever had the bright idea to attach a cute little rabbit to a book by a ribbon was an idiot.

The first thing I'm gonna do when I break loose is raid the fridge. I sure hope they have carrots in the crisper.

It's good to be loved again.

It's been too long.

Miss C.'s mama received me as a gift from her parents when she lost her bid for school secretary back in 4th grade. They wrapped me and my matching envelopes in pretty paper decorated with ice cream cones. A tiny pot of bubble-gum scented lip gloss was tied to the outside of the pretty package.

She had been so disappointed that day, but I remember the delighted look on her face when she opened up her gift. And I remember her mommy and daddy telling her that they were proud of her not matter what happened. She had given the election her best and that's all that mattered.

Twenty years later and that little girl is all grown up with a daughter of her own. My envelopes are long gone and I don't have that many sheets left, but Miss C. dragged me out of an old box and loves me just the way I am.

Today, we wrote this letter to her godmother. Who knows if she'll put it in the mail. It doesn't matter. She gave it her best and I'm proud of the girl she's growing up to be.

Mayday! Mayday! Mayday!

This is FP-1 to air traffic control. Come in air traffic control!

Requesting permission to land. I repeat: requesting permission to make an emergency landing!

Cabin pressure compromised when cabin door burst open mid-flight. All passengers lost at sea.

Front wheels are disabled. Will be landing on back wheels only!

Fire crew needed on standby!

It doesn't get much better than this.

A nice, warm bed. A soft blanket to snuggle in. The warm sun on my face.

Life is good.

Me hungry!

Me need more toys to eat. Gimme! Gimme! Gimme!

Finally!

It's been three long years since I first arrived in this house. Three years since they took me out of the box and set me aside. Three long years of sitting. Waiting.

I could have been useful, you know. I was designed to be a helper at the bassinet. You know, one of those cool gadgets that plays soothing sounds for the baby and lights up at night to guide sleep-deprived parents as they made their way to the rocker.

Instead, I've been sitting around collecting dust. They didn't even put batteries in me. I never had a chance to show them what I could do.

Things are different now. Miss C. spotted me earlier this week and is giving me a shot at doing something big. Something important.

I've got a whole new identity. I'm a baby monitor for Miss C.'s stuffed animals. How cool is that?

It may not be diamonds...

...but she made it just for me.

Babies love me.

It's true.

I was the only toy that could make Miss C. happy when she was a baby and now I go everywhere with Master W. We hang out in his bouncy seat. We go for rides in the stroller. I even get to ride with him in the car.

I've got crinkly hooves, soft fur and a squeaker in my tummy. What more could a baby want?

It could always be worse.

The giraffe got stuck wearing striped socks and Minnie Mouse underwear today.

What a perfect day.

This is my kind of weather. It's rainy, windy and just chilly enough to want to bundle up in a warm sweater – the perfect time to enjoy a nice, hot cup of tea.

Summertime is right around the corner, which means soon I'll be long forgotten. Miss C. will spend her time whipping up chilly pretend treats like smoothies or milk shakes while I sit on the shelf with the rest of the tea cups.

Right now, though, I'm enjoying my time. Every last sip.

Well, that didn't last long.

My popularity peaked five minutes after we reached the beach. I embarrassed to admit it, but Miss C. abandoned me for a broken shell.

So much for all those sand castles we were going to build together.

Wheeeeeee!

That was fun! Do it again! Do it again!

I love it when Master W. bops me over the top of the toy bar. Now, if I could just get his mama's attention so she could flip me back over...

She loves us just the way we are.

We're broken. Used up. Imperfect.

But she still loves us. Every day, we go on grand "letter" writing, coloring, picture drawing adventures.

It's good to be a crayon.

You okay back there?

She told us we were going shopping. Yeah, right.

Hey, Monkey... how many times do you think she spun this thing before she took off? Fifteen? Twenty?

I think I'm going to be sick.

You want to fill up the bathtub.

You want to bathe the kids. You want to put the bath toys in the water. You want to... Hey, is it working?

Nope. Keep staring at the bathtub – maybe she'll take the hint.

Don't panic.

I can do this. Breaking the egg apart only took an hour. The claustrophobia wasn't that bad. Okay, so it was that bad. Worse, even.

Just a little more wiggling... then I can make my escape.

Is he here yet?

It's the night before our big debut and we can't wait for the big guy to get here. You know, the Easter Bunny. Miss C.'s mama said he's going to fill us with treats and hide us around the house.

I've got dibs on the chocolate. The rest of you can duke it out over whatever's left.

How dare she?

Really, is this any way to treat your fine silver? We should be polished and carefully stored in a velvet-lined box.

This is... well, being tossed in a drawer alongside ordinary cooking utensils without a thought for our fine workmanship is just shameful.

I never thought I'd say this...

...but bath time rocks.

Miss C. transformed the coffee table into a luxury day spa today. Check out this fancy bathtub she picked out for me. Pretty sweet, huh?

After a long soak in the tub, she treated me to a gentle scrubbing – complete with shampoo and conditioner for my fur – then wrapped me up in a fluffy baby bath towel.

Mmmmm... I could get used to this.