The continuing exploits of Mr. Finnegan as he conquers the world with his cuteness.

I have come to a deep appreciation of what is commonly called “the bath”. It is one of the singular joys in life to take the waters and be refreshed both in mind and in body. I have only had six or so baths in my lifetime, but each has been singularly the most exhilhirating experience so far. After my last visit to the spa I was utterly spent!

Sleep of the clean

I rest my case, as I rest my self. Clean in thought as I am in deed, including between my tiny little toes.

Last night I found myself deep in a dark pit of despair, inconsolable, and bereft of all hope. Weary of this endless vale of misery I cried out in my anguish, shaking my little fists at the skies. My mother and father both tried to help me, investigating my diaper, offering milk, singing me songs and walking with me late into the night – but nothing could prevail over my dark mood. My cries rang out into the black void of the night.

These are the times that try men's souls.

Then my father sat with me at his computer and played some music for me. At first I was shocked at this new sound, and forgot my troubles immediately. Father was playing some delightful and spritely music played by a quartet of rambunctious lads from merry olde England, a magical place where I must assume faeries and gnomes have gay jousts whilst riding on the backs of butterflies and caterpillars.

I am told that what I heard was the music of Led Zeppelin, and many songs of great variety they were. For more than an hour I listened in rapt attention to this universe spanning symphony of sounds and colors and vibrations so varied and energetic that I felt that my very soul was traveling through space and time – a feeling that made me nostalgic for my recent past when floating through time and space was my primary occupation, being as yet incorporeal.

Finally there was one song, the title of which I cannot be entirely certain, that told of a lady who I can only surmise was mother (I know of very few other ladies) who wished to buy a magical stairway. But this was no ordinary stairway, it was a stairway to Finnegan!

Hallelujah

Oh glorious day! Oh wondrous song! That you could so accurately capture my joy and tell it back to me! For is that not what the whole world is? A stairway to Finnegan.

I know of no other destination. Fortunately for me I am already here.

In my recent explorations of this new world I have come across one most excellent feature: father. It seems that, in addition to a mother, I also have what is known as a “father”. At first this posed quite a riddle for me, as this “father” person is not a provider of milk which immediately posed the question of: “what good is he?”.

Well now I know. My father is there for changing my diaper, picking me up when I cry out, singing songs to me when I am lonely, and giving me a safe and warm place to make my repose.

Today I achieved a milestone: 7 days in the open air. At 2:57pm I was greeted with a rousing rendition of “Happy Birthday” sung with great feeling by my beloved parents.

Today was also my first attempt at receiving visitors in my new home. My mother’s parents, to be known as “Nana” and “Papa” henceforth, arrived in the early afternoon bringing gifts of food and much appreciated attention.

Although preparations for the visit were extensive, I managed to keep my composure during the entire time. I credit this to my steady diet of mother’s milk, a most excellent source of nourishment, and one I can highly recommend.

This is my sweet ride home.

Friends, can I tell you of my joy at this new development? What ineffable bliss, what indescribable joy! I settled in to my new conveyance and promptly went to sleep. The magic chariot took me to a land of soothing vibrations and movements sublime where, I am told, I was wont to make many displays of contentment with my countenance.

I know not what may have occured during my dreamtime, but when I awoke I was in entirely new surroundings. Mother and Father informed me that I was now in a place called “home” and that it was here that I would spend the most formative years of my life.