Look buddy, I'm just a compact car. A nobody.

You don't want to do this...

Somebody help me, please! I'm being crushed by a deranged monster truck!

I'm so glad she's my mommy.

Miss C. asked her mama to bundle me up in the mei tai today. I spent the morning snuggled up close to her chest, while she looked for bugs in the front yard, explored Ama's purse and played with Master W.

It felt so good to be so loved.

Be careful what you wish for.

The last time you saw me I was sitting alone and forgotten behind the door of Miss C.'s bedroom. I admit I was feeling rather sorry for myself, and desperately hoping she'd take notice of me again.

This wasn't exactly what I had in mind.

Miss C. took my picture today.

Normally, I'm not camera-shy.

It's just that... well lately I've been feeling a little grubby. Miss C. and I go everywhere together and I haven't had a good bath in ages. You can imagine how dingy my white fur looks right about now.

Good thing the baby monitor she was pretending to use as a camera doesn't take real photos. I got lucky this time. I'd better ask her mama for a bath soon... there's no telling when she might storm in wielding a real camera.

Note to self: Never ask a toddler for directions.

You'll just end up hopelessly lost. I know I've seen this same field of flowers before. I sure hope I'm not driving in circles...

Doooooooog Piiiiiiile!

That was fun. Wanna do it again?

Need help with diaper changes?

Look no further than the Primetime Primates!

That's right, folks, when you book a slot with the Primetime Primates not only do you get five monkeys for the price of one but you get the best diaper change entertainment in the west!

Say goodbye to Mr. Crankypants. We'll drive him bananas with our antics! He'll go ape over our jokes!

And we guarantee that our monkey business will leave your baby in a fit of giggles... or your money back!

This can't be real.

When I went to bed last night I was a regular bear. Now... well, now I'm some sort of Frankentoy science experiment.

I must be in the midst of a really bad dream. I'd pinch myself to find out, but I'm way too creeped out by my baby doll hand.

Please wake up. Please wake up. Please wake up.

Rabbits, alligators and owls don't belong together.

This is a recipe for disaster.

One false move...

...and I'm toast.

I feel like I'm in one of those action/adventure movies where the hero's car is dangling precariously from the edge of a cliff. Only I'm not James Bond and there's no convenient tree branch nearby to grab onto.

Help!

She's an artist, you know.

We may not look like a gourmet meal (or even an appetizing one), but she called us a "beautiful feast". We like to think of Miss C. is a bit of a petite Picasso when it comes to cooking.

It's 80 degrees outside.

And hot as an oven in this bed. Miss C. thought it would be fun to put me in a sleeper, overalls, a jacket and a blanket. There's no way I'll be able to sleep like this!

Aaaaaaahhhhh.

That's much better. I don't feel so... toasted... anymore.

My biscuits are burning!

I consider myself to be a patient bear. I let her dress me in diapers and too-big toddler clothes. I don't get upset when she leaves me strapped in Master W.'s car seat for hours at a time. And I don't mind being tossed around the house all day long.

But putting me on the hot stove? It's just cruel.

Stillwater is talking.

He's such a wise panda. Are you listening?

From Moses basket...

...to crib on wheels. Very clever.

Let's see...

I've got a crayon roll, some paper and her I Spy Bag. That should keep Miss C. entertained at the restaurant tonight for, oh, about 5 minutes.

Why, oh why...

...wasn't I made with a set of windshield wipers? This is what happens when baby drool meets monster truck.

Disaster.

It's not fair!

I called shotgun and I'm stuck back here with the frog. Why does New Bear always get to sit up front?

I've been stood up.

We were supposed to have a play date today. Miss C. dressed me up in my best sleeper, loaded me in the stroller and took off running.

That was 20 minutes ago. I don't think she's coming back.

I'm rich!

Holy moley. I am one rich dish.

A whole stick of butter to sauté one mushroom... Paula Deen would be proud.

Just to clarify...

I'm called "Pat the Bunny"... not "Chew the Bunny". Could someone please explain the difference to Master W.?

I'm sick of the rain.

It's May. We live in California. Where's the sunshine?

Could someone please pass the steak sauce?

I love a good moose dinner.

Snack time!

Miss C. is so thoughtful. She left this delicious looking shoe laying out. I'm sure she wanted me to eat it.

Right?

We're in a rut.

What we wouldn't give to be made into a big bowl of salsa or even a pot of spaghetti sauce. Instead, we're forever being turned into tomato soup.

We're meant for so much more. BLT sandwiches, guacamole, pico de gallo... the possibilities are endless! But here we sit in our bowls, day after day.

Maybe someday things will change. A tomato can dream, right?

Yeah, she loves me.

Just look at what a mess she made out of my tray. There's paint everywhere and I'm almost out of black.

Big messes mean big fun!

I was once a rock star.

They shot me into the air in the big finale of Mickey's parade at Disneyland. Now I'm just one of the guys, hanging out in the craft box waiting to be made into an art project.  Celebrity confetti one day, craft supply the next.

Isn't life crazy?

Disneyland is supposed to be the happiest place on earth.

Sitting here, squashed under the backpack, isn't exactly what I'd call good times.

Could somebody help me out? I heard Miss C.'s mama and daddy talking about going to see Mickey next. I was really hoping to meet him...

Isn't she thoughtful?

Miss C. thought her daddy could use a nice cup of milk while he paid the bills today. I've always known she's a smart cookie. After all, she knows I'm the best drink in the play kitchen... far superior to that upstart orange juice that's been lurking about lately. 

I'm all set.

Clothes? Check.

Car seat? Check.

Seat belt securely fastened? Check.

Let's roll.