Now I Know . . . He DOES Have a Minion

You know, spend some time around this house and you start to wonder how ONE Demon Baby could possibly make THAT much mess, destroy THAT much. Just today, I noticed the vent covers off the floor heating and A/C vents. I peered down to find six Pokemon cards, one stuffed animal, four pencils, three quarters, nine pennies, a nickel, and a container of applesauce had been shoved down my vents. Just how does he DO it?

So I asked.

"Who put all this stuff down the air vents. By the looks of this applesauce, you've been stockpiling down here for MONTHS!"

"Crapatage."

"What?"

"Crapatage."

"Sabatage?"

"No. My friend. Crapatage. He lives in Crappingham. He's the one who does this stuff. He puts all KINDS of things down the vents. And he likes making messes."

So now I know. It's not Demon Baby. It's his trusty sidekick. Crapatage.

Minions

Oh my God . . . the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse have arrived.

Demon Baby is in a full-court press for . . .


. . . wait for it . . .

a baby brother. As in he WANTS one. BAD. And feels the need to ask me for one every five minutes.

I know it's a ploy.

He doesn't really want a baby brother. He wants a minion.