Yes, that slug is most likely really sad that you have been holding it all day in your very salty, sodium-laden guillotine paws. You heartless slayer of slugs.
Dear Seldon Edwards,
With the weird, contrived plot twists in your wee tale of time-travel, The Little Book, you are leading me to believe that the main character will turn out to be his own damned grandpa. Literally.
Um, it appears you are talking now. Today, you said "Don't, please." when Arun was tickling you. Then, later you dropped a crayon and said "I drop it." and when you picked it up, you proudly exclaimed "I find it!". And yes, I got teary-eyed because I am a sentimental fool. Quit with the growing up, dammit.
Dear Fellow Bloggers,
I swear I am not doing the NaBloPoMo this year. Pinkie swear. I am not entirely sure why I keep posting everyday.
Can you just molt already? You are looking a bit haggard.
Your faithful invertebrate enthusiast,