Peanut Butt & Breakfast

Hello there. My name is Maxwell Byrum and you have found yourself on my blog. I will have reached two-years of age this December and, while my speech has processes to go, my mind is far into the

complexity of thought. I shall use this blog as my outlet for the words I cannot articulate yet.

So far, this morning is a great one. I woke up and called to mother, who is always ever so prompt in coming to get me in the morning. My bed has high walls that, today, I cannot climb, but I foresee these walls coming down in the future, with that being said, I need my mother or father’s assistance out of bed.

Breakfast was scrambled eggs and toast. I’m not sure if I like scrambled eggs today – just to be sure I threw them on the floor.

Mother has persistently been putting this slimy brown paste onto my toast, which I do not appreciate. For one, it’s sticky. Two, it smells. Three, my dog, Scout, seems to like it a little too much. Why is my mother feeding me dog food? Peanut Butt, I believe it’s called. Whatever it is ruins a perfectly good piece of toast.

After breakfast, I desperately want to read Chicka-Chicka-Boom-Boom. It is a riveting story. But before I know – I’m being whisked away to day care. I hope Owen doesn’t constantly criticize my actions as he did yesterday. He doesn’t understand how my mind works yet.