Baby Bear has made quite a name for himself under the pen name “zorbear”. He has both a political blog and an online diary that I publish for him. (He thinks I don’t know about the second, secret diary that he’s figured out how to publish for himself.) Although he’s only three-and-a-half years old, he’s wiser than I am at mumblesomethinginaudible. And no, I’m not just praising him because some day he’ll be picking out my retirement home.
(There, did I say that right, baby bear? Wha’do’ya mean, ‘more feeling’? You better take the feeling you got — you might not like what I’m feeling right about now, little fellow. Hey, I put in the disclaimer like you said! I am not re-doing it. You want it redone, you re-do it! Don’t threaten me with that old ‘retirement home’ saw — I could send you away to a military school when you turn six, you know. No, no, don’t call the SPCA, I’m sure we can work this out. Well, then, just give me back the copy and I’ll finish reading it into Dragon Speaks for you.)
[Ahem.] James Bond Bear is the bestest writer there ever was or will be. Someday, he’ll throw up…uh, grow up to be Zorro Bear, writer of the world’s wrongs! The true James Bond, he has no time for female companions, but must fight every day for Truth, Justice and the Bear-merican Way!
(There, I did it. You happy now, hotshot? Oh, go play with your cousin, Teddy. I’m outta here. I need to sit down. My feet hurt. Now where the heck is that ‘off’ switch?)