Reese's Reign of Terror Would be an Awesome Wrestling Name

Sometimes you're a baby and your family takes you camping. Also, sometimes you are awesome, but you already knew that. Sometimes, in the middle of camping and being awesome, your dad wants to steal a little smooch. He's alright, so you let him.



But sometimes, as alright as he is, he invades your personal space. This is totally unacceptable.



And you're all, Nuh-uh. Step off, old man. Why you gotta steal my flava?



Being a baby and as awesome as you totally are, you look him straight in the eye (while pulling his hair) and tell him who's boss.



Just then, you hear cackles of laughter from behind you. You quickly turn and focus your attention on the wise-acre hecklers behind you.

Who's there? Is that you, internets? Are you talking to me?

I said, ARE YOU TALKING TO ME?



Yeah, you don't want to mess with our Reesie. There's a whole lotta awesome and feisty packed into those size four pampers. She'll get ya. She'll get ya every time.



Internets, you've been warned.

P.S.: No dads were harmed in the making of this post.
P.P.S: Did you all see my awesome pedicure? It's so not that way anymore.
P.P.P.S: If you scrolled back to see my toes, please don't judge the messy camper. I was busy documenting the domestic violence you just witnessed. There was no time to tidy up.