Ozzy Pups never used to bark. At anyone. At anything (except the printer that one time).
Then, about two years ago, we moved. And the dog across the street barks every time someone walks by.
So does the dog next door. And the dog across the street and two houses up. So does the dog three houses up and the dog that lives behind us.
You get the point.
Now Ozzy barks when dogs walk by and almost every time someone comes to the door.
Which is awesome when I’m trying to get Scout to sleep.
Even awesomer now that Scout is down to one nap that just so happens to take place exactly when our mail person arrives. Nothing better than seeing your little one’s eyes flutter as you read them a story, and then BOOM! BARK! BARK! BARK!
Like I said, Awesome.
That leaves me with only one choice. To sacrifice the peanut butter….
Choosy Dogs Choose Jif
Scout looks absolutely nothing like me. She might have my hair, but Kiefer’s hair is darkish, too, so it’s hard to tell.
If I hadn’t been in labor with her for nearly 30 hours, I might question that she was actually my child.
But the other day, this happened:
And it reminded me of this:
Look familiar? Are you looking at my butt? Because that’s not what I meant. Scout’s wearing a diaper, so you can’t really compare our butts.
We both love giant beanbags!
You’re still looking at my butt, aren’t you?
At the grocery store, I saw an older gentleman loading his items onto the belt for the cashier. Why exactly did this catch my eye?
Because he unloaded about six boxes of Pop-Tarts from his cart.
Not one box. Not two boxes. Six boxes. At least. There may have been more. I didn’t want to
drool stare too long.
That will be me in 30 years. I hope.
Kiefer should count himself lucky that he found me before that elderly gentleman.
Speaking of Pop-Tarts…Scout’s birthday came and went. This is how we kicked it off: Birthday Cake Pop-Tarts.
Of course, we did cupcakes and frozen yogurt that weekend, too. More pics to come!
I stay home with Scout. I get up at 4 AM, so I can work before she wakes up. During her naps, I do more work. At 4 PM, Scout goes to the child care center in our gym, and I hop on an elliptical and watch Ellen.
For those of you mathematically challenged, that’s 12 hours until I get a break.
Today I was especially excited to watch Ellen because Johnny Depp was a guest (::swoon::).
After mere minutes, a special news report interrupted my program. (Does saying “my program” make me sound old?)
My first thought? NOOOOOOOO! JOHNNY!
My second thought? Damn terrorists.
But it wasn’t terrorists. It was Tom Brady. Damn Tom Brady…talking about how he picks out his footballs. Insert your own joke about a man and his balls here and in the comments.
And although Tom Brady is pretty cute, let’s face it: he’s no Johnny Depp.
I saw this:
Instead of this:
Now I know why people hate the Patriots. Those freakin’ program interrupters….