November 14, 2011

POTTY TIME

  Going to the potty is something we must do. Mommies do it. Daddies do it. Even me and you. Our number one is always liquid. Our number two is like a paste. Both of them are made up from all our body’s waste. We have to dump our garbage, so that we don’t get sick, From all the dirty, yucky and disgusting garbage ick. Our waste is trash inside us. We have to push it out. Doing it without our diaper is what this book’s about. We have to wear a diaper, when we’re a baby who’s still small. But once we start to run around – swift and straight and tall, Then we know it’s time to learn what we’re supposed to do when we have to go & make a number one or two. It’ll start out as a tickle, from somewhere deep inside our tummy. Sometimes we can feel it after we eat something yummy. When things begin to stir around and start to move inside, we won’t go in a corner or find a place to hide. We’ll find our mom or daddy – any relative will do – then we’ll say,Excuse me, I must go number one or two! They’ll understand, take our hand, and help take care of it. We’ll walk into the bathroom, pull down our pants and sit. We’ll keep sitting on the potty. Until our wait is through. We’ll know when we’re finished; we’ll see our number one or two. Things feel so much better when we don’t need a change. Even though at first those things might feel a little strange. We’ll feel so much bigger, and that feeling feels so good. If we can number one and two it, then don’t you think we should? mommy lorraine 1-888-430-2010 for all of baby’s fun time needs whether it be potty or sexual and sensual you know where to find me heheheh
June 13, 2011

The Dusky Duck

September nights have scarcely felt The first cool breath of autumn time, Ere high the black duck pinions fan Our shore-line, in their flight sublime. At first these swift fowl skim the cloud, And high in lessening circles sweep; Then slow to lonely bays descend, Glad to repose their wings in sleep. And so for passing weeks they haunt The inland marsh and muddy creek, Where in the shallows or the grass, Their pastime or their food they seek. Most shy, at midday they disport In ocean surf or ample bay; But when the evening shades pervade And fades the twilight of the day, Then with a soaring flight they rise And seek some lonely marsh remote, Some salt-pool in the meadow scoop’d; And here their quacking numbers float, And here the watchful fowler lies In ambush for the dusky prize. Isaac McLellan (1806-1899) Lorraine Mommy Lorraine is always here for all of her babies needs no matter what they might be sexual,sensual or baby related she is here 1-888-430-2010
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