Izzy Tornado

Attack of the Naughty Crocodile

On November 11, 2022

“Wroar!” The booming roar escaped my lungs as I held my baby crocodile. I am the most powerful two-year-old!

“Are you excited to see crocodiles at the park today?” Mommy asks, peering at me in the rearview mirror.

“Yes!” I eagerly reply as the crocodile swims in the air.

After a long time, we finally arrived at the crocodile park. I quickly scan the perimeter; there is a giant crocodile painting on the wall but no real crocodiles.

Please don’t tell me this is it, as tears form in my eyes.

“Please come to the waiting area for your crocodile tour,” someone bellows in the overhead speakers. The tears disappeared as quickly as they came. Mommy holds my hand as we walk towards the door, passing a litter of pigs.

Kids are standing on a deck, looking through a fence. My head turns towards their gaze. There is a small lake to the left of the swamp; two giant crocodiles are waiting in the shallow water. The tour guide walks towards the lake with a stick clamping onto a piece of raw chicken.

“Honey, come over,” he shouts.

He waves the stick above the massive crocodiles’ heads. One of them jumps onto shore, its short, strong legs digging into the ground while it arches its upper body up, mouth wide open, reaching for the chicken. That one must be Honey.

“Come here, girl,” the tour guide says calmly, luring Honey closer to the fence where I was standing. The crocodile snaps at the tour guide’s legs. Luckily, he jumps back just in time. “No chicken for you,” the tour guide puts the chicken into a bucket and pokes the empty stick on the crocodile’s back, pushing it into the water.

Out of nowhere, I hear a big splash behind me and then a bellowing hiss.

I turn around and found another crocodile against the fence, trying to reach the deck.

“Down!” I screamed while the other kids hid behind me. My fingers point to the ground.

“Get down!” I confidently shout—the crocodile retreat into the water, its beady eyes peering slightly above the surface.

“Down!” I stomp my feet while the crocodile continues to glare at me. No chicken for you if you don’t behave.

“Good job, Izzy,” Mommy says proudly. “You are so brave!”

See! I AM the most powerful! As we enjoy the rest of the tour, I search the perimeter for more naughty crocodiles.

NOTE: After the 1.5-hour tour, we sat by the resting area as they passed around baby crocodiles, lizards, and snakes. Izzy was screaming in terror and refused to touch them. I guess she can only handle adult crocodiles!

Butterfly Concerto

By Hurricane Dora

On November 3, 2022

In 08 Months Old, Dora's Stories

“Eh!” I exclaim. Mommy is cleaning the table.

“Eh Eh!” I shout louder this time. Mommy finally turns around and looks at me.

“Dora! How did you get up on the piano again!? You are only 8 months old!” She runs across the living room towards me, extending her hands out as far as possible as if they can stretch like a rubber band.

Don’t worry; I won’t fall; this is my daily exercise.

She should know by now that I have magical powers.

“Eh eh wa,” I reply. The parents like to place me on the floor but didn’t realize I am practicing for a reward.

“Eh,” I point outside the window with one finger.

She looks outside. Two beautiful yellow swallowtail butterflies are dancing in the garden, fluttering from one flower to the next.

“Wow, good job Dora. The butterflies are so pretty, thank you for telling me,” Mommy says.

Mommy stands next to me as I bob up and down in excitement, playing Butterfly Concerto on the piano.

“Let’s get closer,” she picks me up and walks towards the door.

Standing in the garden, we admire the butterflies the size of Mommy’s palms. Then all of a sudden, another butterfly swoops from the sky and chases after them around the flower bushes.

After a few minutes, they flew away, the biggest one taking the lead as if saying, “Tag, you’re it!”

A Baby’s Early Puberty – The Acne Party

By Hurricane Dora

On November 3, 2022

In 08 Months Old, Dora's Stories

At 8 months old, I got my first taste of early puberty—acne of various sizes emerged from the least expected areas – Hand, Foot, and Mouth. I even felt some in my armpit and in between my buttcrack. The acne infestation resulted in a 102 fever and body aches. Every movement felt painful; even my usual magical power was useless. While the burning sensation spread from my chest to my head, my parents thought it would be fun to inject cherry syrup, called “medicine” in my mouth EVERY FEW HOURS.

Oh, my mouth, my poor mouth.

Do you know what’s worse than having two pimples in the back of your mouth that you can’t reach? – Staring at a warm bottle of milk but unable to drink it because the excruciating pain from suckling outweighs hunger. Even my favorite pacifier was useless during this week-long event while my mouth hosted the Acne Party.

Can you imagine how much screaming was involved when I was hungry, sleepy, and in pain – all day?

Luckily, after a week, the Acne Party finally packed its bags to find a new victim, leaving behind a trail of tears and scars. If this is early puberty, I can’t even imagine what teenage puberty will be like.

Can I always be a baby?

Baby Dora’s Duck Face

By Hurricane Dora

On November 3, 2022

In 15 Months Old, Dora's Stories

“What is that face, Dora?” Mommy asked with a chuckle as she pressed her fingers on my pouted lips. As if she can flatten my muscles and mold them at her will.

I am not a baby anymore; I’m 15 months old already!

From my weeks of thorough analysis, the puckered lips served as an effective mechanism for seeking attention when I am sad, hurt, and embarrassed. This duck face periodically gets the “awws” from strangers when I get shy. Sometimes, I even get a hug when I put on the duck face while deep in thought.

Who would’ve thought that the duck face is so popular?

“Wah nwah,” I said, turning my head to escape her outreached arms. With my scrunched-up face and pouted lips, I pushed my cheeks up and squinted my eyes as if I could wring them like a wet rag. Humph! The audacity of this woman! How dare she deny me a second serving of Lindt truffle!? Is that too much to ask from your perfect, chubby kid!?

I gazed down as my upper lip covered my nostrils and inhaled deeply. Then slowly walked away as Mommy tried to hug me again.

I am savoring every minute of guilt so she can’t deny chocolates again.

Unfortunately, the duck face is useless against Mommy’s stubbornness this time. I should’ve slowly eaten that first one instead of plopping it in my mouth; I wasted a few drops of precious chocolate as it dripped out the corner of my mouth because the round chocolate ball was too big. C’est la vie.

Shoe Eating is a Crime

By Hurricane Dora

On October 2, 2021

In Dora's Stories, Under 1 Year Old

Don’t put it in your mouth! I said to myself.

My hands move closer to my lips. Are my hands disconnected from my brain? They are not listening to me.

Don’t do it! I concentrate my 6-month-old brain to set those hands down.

Mommy will be mad at you, don’t you dare! I scream internally.

The grip got tighter. Uh Oh, this is bad.

Mommy bolts from around the corner, snatching the black sneaker out of my hands. “No, Dora! Stop eating shoes,” she exclaimed.

I look at her, relieved. Crisis avoided… Nice save!

She picks me up and places me back on the mat full of toys, about 8 feet away from the shoe drawer. “Dora, stay here while I cook dinner, please,” as she puts a singing bunny in front of me. She walks back into the kitchen.

My arms and legs uncontrollably start crawling towards the shoe rack. Oh no! Not again!?

Izzy is cooking in her little kitchenette in the corner. “Wahh… Agh… Ahh,” I whimper for help. Can someone please stop my limbs? I like toes, not shoes.