Poor Baby

Because I find it amusing we call your lady part a "Biscuit." Right now you have a diaper rash. When I picked you up a minute ago you started fussing (you weren't wearing a diaper because I was hoping the dry air would help). You said,"Owie! Bis-kee." I started patting your back and said, "Oh," in my most sympathetic voice. And you began repeating, "Poor Baby, poor Baby, poor Baby." Because that's what I say when you are hurt. We had to call Daddy to tell him about that one.*

*Faerl, when you graduate with your degree I hope you will provide free psychiatric services to my daughter for two reasons:

1. you're my friend.

2. you introduced me to calling lady parts "biscuits" thus providing a future need for therapy for my daughter.