This little critter is absolutely beautiful and oh so tiny! I want one. They're so wee and precious and smell like heaven. Well, most do anyway. My ex-boyfriend's (who's not very rich but goes to Oxford with a full scholarship, so he has potential) neighbour desperately needed a babysitter one night and I did it only to impress this boy (this is before we dated). He's the kind of guy who doesn't give a rat's arse about money or looks (I know!) but finds kindness and selflessness very sexy. Anyway, so I'm babysitting this baby and suddenly, this THING I'm holding starts to cry and is flailing its arms and legs furiously. I put it down and it crawls away, towards the kitchen. Anyways, I leave it alone and let it do what it wants, thinking it maybe went out the kitchen door for a cigarette. I'm deep into the beauty section in the November issue of InStyle when suddenly, I hear this loud crash. I run (actually, I waited until was finished the mag) and walked to the kitchen to discover that Baby is playing in the GRABAGE. Somehow, it managed to open the cupboard underneath the sink and tip the can over. So anyways, I'm poking this baby with the end of a broom handle and telling it to go back to the living room, but it's not listening (I'm no psychologist, but I believe this baby suffers from ADD). I have to PICK IT UP and...oh gosh...BATHE IT! Baby smells like an alley in downtown New York. Whatever, I won the boy. Again. So, cancel that baby order; I changed my mind.
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