Research Young & Early Alert System!
"Some people create chaos; some of us are born chaos."
A cheetah symbolizes chaos is relative to life; or the speed of the child.
The research trials in this listing are true. Scars are validation of this child's research, outcomes and recommendations. They, decidedly, identify as Scientific Research. Much more intriguing, than another kid of chaos in the room.
From The Crawl To The Wringer Rejection
Here is a list of my scientific research prior to age 4
6 months - Experiment: Test to see if the ashes in the pan just taken out of the coal and wood stove were hot, or just teasing.
Results: Definitely not teasing. Hot enough to burn as I sent out warnings through my own siren system.
Outgoing report: Volume increased beyond, currently available, measurement of the time.
Recommendation: Don't mess with the ashes! You'll get burnt!
2 or 3 years old (approx) - Experiment: Check to see if I could use daddy's tool (straight razor) to make my little face better.
Method: Crawl up on chair.
Grasp daddy's tool.
Touch to face.
Face better.
Results: Fall off chair.
Tool sliced through cheek. Face not better.
Red stuff all over.
Mommy comes holds me. We both share siren alerts. Mine louder, poor Mommy.
Mommy fixed face with sticky things to hold it together. Love Mommy so much. Both our sirens quiet.
Outgoing report: "Close shaves with straight razors just cut it.
Recommendation: Not recommended, even for daddies. One slip may cost you a nose.
New direction:Pursuit of puppy.
3 or 3 1/2 (approx) years old - Experiment: Try to see if that thing that flattens the clothes (the wringer in the washing machine) can flatten a child, too.
Method:Crawl up on chair beside machine.
Get inside machine.
Insert arm into flattener.
Results: It was 'fed up' by the time it reached my elbow. Thus making me the victor *sort of*.
Recommendation: Do not try this! It instantly sets off alert sirens, and the machine can't handle the load.
Parental Response (maybe): After the above, I believe my parents attempted to trade me for a harmonica.
It was going great until my resume appeared.
Then, all they saw was a streak, with the harmonica left behind.
As the person went streaking away, and yelled back,
"Good luck with that one! You'll need it!"
Our father would play us the harmonica, on occasion, throughout the years.
But, he never told us how it came into his possession.