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
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 can’t remember exactly how it started, but I think when Scout was a couple months old, we started blowing raspberries to her while she was having her diaper changed. It distracted her and kept her from fussing.
Then one day she blew one back at me. So I blew one at her again. And she blew one back at me. And this went on for 5 minutes or so.
Thoughtsy: It’s like she’s trying to communicate!
It was funny.
Until one day, it wasn’t.
Complete Stranger in Line Behind Us at Target: Awwww…your baby is so cute!
Awesome. Just awesome. What a rude little baby. At least she’s cute.
Before it got chilly, Scout and I played outside. Her favorite game is called Baby Tries to Eat the Grass While Mommy Yells, “Get It Outta Your Mouth.”
It’s fun. No, really.
Then we discovered the soccer ball.
My initial reaction was Scout’s baby gibberish loosely translated to “You may take our lives/soccer ball, but you can never take our freedom!”
But maybe that was too hasty. Maybe she was really saying…
- Are you blind, ref?!?! That ball was out!
- Put me in coach! I’m ready to play…today!
- What the heck, Mommy! I can’t fit this soccer ball in my mouth!
What do you think Scout is saying? Or what do you think Ozzy Pups is thinking?
My name is Scout, and I should be your new spokesperson. You can pay
Mom me in tall-non-fat-vanilla-bean-frappuccinos-with-a-shot-of-cinnamon-dolce-syrup.