I like to dig holes.  I guess you could say I dig digging.  I made up that joke, but you can use it if you want to.

    I dig holes all the time.  And all over the place!  In the park, at the beach, and in my yard (but then mommy and daddy get angry).  But I dig whenever I can.  And oh! the wonderful things I can put in the holes!  I like to bury things a lot. Burying is when you put something in a hole and fill it up.  I like to bury things almost as much as I like to dig holes.

    I bury all kinds of things.  I pretend I’m a pirate, and that I’m burying my treasure!  Avast, me maytees!!!  (Don’t be afraid, I’m not really a pirate.)

    I bury things I find, like sticks, and pop bottles, and bits of trash and stuff like that.  But I pretend it’s my treasure.  And I bury it in my little holes.  But then I decided that I wanted to bury real treasure.  So in went mommy’s jewelry box!  (I told her the plumber took it - but don’t tattle!)

    Then one day I saw the neighbors cat in my sand box.  Silly kitty, it was digging a hole just like me!  And then it buried some treasure in its hole.  When kitty left, I went and dug up its treasure.  Eeeeww, it was stinky potty!  The neighbor cat buried its poo in my sandbox!  Naughty kitty!

    So I started to dig a new hole.  Naughty kitty...  I went to get the kitty.  And then I saw it climb a tree.  It had sharp claws and climbed really quick.  I went back and made my hole deeper.

    Bad ole kitty...

    And then I got the cat and I made it go in the hole and quick as you like I filled in the hole!  I had new treasure!

    After that, I buried all the neighbors’ stray pets, and even Mr. Fluffy-Foo-Foo Head, my hamster.  Then my mommy and daddy found out, and said if I was going to keep on burying the neighborhood animals, I wasn’t going to be aloud to dig any holes at all anymore.  And “Besides,” they said, “the lawns turning out all patchy.”

    So I went into the backyard with me little Shovel and started to dig some new holes.  Two.  Big ones.

    My mommy and daddy ask if I’m going to bury another fluffy puppy or kitty cat. I say no.  And giggle, cos I know a secret.

    Daddy says I should act my age, but I bet when he was thirty he liked to dig holes too.

    So the next time they come out with me, I hit them both really hard with me little Shovel in the heads.  In movies when the people fall from gettin’ hit once, that isn’t so.  I had to hit mommy a lot and daddy even more before they stopped walking and moving and twitching and breathing and begging. 

    And then “POP!,” into the holes they went.  And I filled in the holes and went back into the house.

    I wonder what I can bury tomorrow...