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So, this is here.

I wondered when I would get here.

Stuck in my bed until Grandy remembered I was still there.

Grandy Damec had taken Jax first, he always did but I am used to that. Its OK coz Taddy always gets me first.

So I had to teach him a lesson.

I know he wants me to wear the dress and it is pretty with its little fluffy bits and ribbons but he did get Jax first so I know I have to make it known that I'm special too.

Ah, here he is.

Yep, that dress in his hands.

I watch him get the dress and croon as he shows me. Telling me I will be a pretty princess in it and I pretend to be happy about it while he chooses shoes to match.

Now he thinks he will simply take my PJs off and plop it on, over my head.

Really?

I call it the beanbag attack. I go limp like my stupid rag doll and pretend to be dead. This makes it difficult for him to move my limbs and he starts to do that muttering thing under his breath.

Gotta keep the old man busy, so I decide to help by pulling one arm out as the other is being forced in.

The whole time I am babbling and grinning at him like its all great fun and I really love my pretty dress.

Grandy Damec is getting annoyed now because I can see that little vein by his temple starting to pulse as he tries to do up the buttons on the back.

He has managed to get both arms in so I have to ramp it up a bit.

The 'broken arm' always does it so I go all hard and rigid as I scream so loud that he almost drops ne.

Now I do the big eyes while holding an arm and open my mouth in a silent wail.

As expected, he hastily removes the arm from the dress and croons while kissing it and rubbing it.

Of course there is not mark on my arm so he doesn't have a point of reference and must treat the entire limb as damaged.

Now I smile and pat his face to show he did it the right way.

I let him put the arm back in the dress and then he places me on the bench and shows me the little stockings.

God, I hate those.

I reach for a shoe and cram my foot into it while saying those words guaranteed to make him go gooey.

Yeah, it is the wrong shoe and the foot without a stocking but he struggles to tell me as I act all grown up while declaring "I do it!"

Finally, he explains the problem and I go all floppy, falling back and he catches me before I hit my head, he is really got at that.

Daddy sometimes forgets this trick and I get to do a spectacular act while pretending my head has caved in completely.

So I let Grandy get my stockings on and little shoes.

He put me on the ground in front of the mirror and I did like the pretty dress.

I twirl for a bit and then notice the ribbons approaching for my hair.

Oh no, not that.

I have to think fast so I do the only thing possible with so little time to prepare.

I hide my satisfaction as the smell finally wafts up to Grandy's nose and his cry of horror is quite satisfying.

My poo has not only run down my legs but it has pooled in and around the pretty little shoes, leaving rivulets of brown on the stockings.

Rivulets, Taddy taught me that word.

Now for the best bit.

As he cries and flaps his hands in dismay I calmly sit as hard as I can while making sure the skirting of the dress is under my bum.

Now Grandy is really making screaming noises as he scoops me up and runs for the bathroom.

I stand triumphant as he rips the now ruined dress off over my head and I watch one of those bloody ribbons flutter into the tub.

I wonder if it is worth the upset, then see him checking to see if the dress can be saved.

What about my bum?

Right.

You asked for it.

I widen my stance and look innocently confused as I pee all over the shoes.

At least they look clean again.