The boy and his Dog...

Wanted: Cutest Little Con Artist on the Planet and His Dog

Seriously.

Watch out.

The boy and his dog have formed an alliance based on food. I'm not talking about the normal dog hovering around by the food-dispensing baby deal... I mean a full out alliance.

On a typical day, I get home from work and immediately start cooking dinner with my little assistant Bugga. This is usually just prior to the Momma and Bugga concert series we are currently holding. (We pick songs on On Demand and sing them together.) Just afterwards we feed Laney the obese Labrador.

Bugg will hustle across the living room with one of those toddlery wobble runs where it appears his legs have been asleep for a few hours but he's gotta go. He'll immediately drop into a yoga style squat that a human over 14 can never do again without substantial effort and start to grab, one by one, kibble after kibble out of Laney's bowl. There are three different patterns to his madness:

1. Make it rain in Dis Bitch - This is where Bugga takes a handful of kibble and throws it in the air laughing like a mad man. The dog then scrambles around to collect all the discarded goodness.

2. It's Gettin Hot in Hurr - In this pattern, Buggs shoves individual kibbles into the heating vents next to the front door delighting in his ability to squeeze the bastards somewhere we'll not likely be able to retrieve them from.

3. Take it, Bitch - Here Bugga will run across the room and shove bits of kibble into my mouth laughing because he knows it tastes like shit.

The Dog hates kids, Well, most kids. Bugga is her dude. Her willingness to let him in her food bowl is the biggest testimony to how much she loves the little con artist.

Now, on the other side is the obvious. When Bugg eats in his chair, Laney is there poised and waiting for any misplaced morsel to fall to the ground. My little comedian likes to put on a little show. After he takes a few bits with his big boy fork, making cute NOM NOM NOM sounds, he will stop dead and change his expression to one of complete calmness. He will lock eyes with me and then WHIP a handful of food at the floor, mentally screaming "BECAUSE FUCK YOU, THAT'S WHY!"

('cept for when you point a camera. He has a smile reflex)



Now that you are well familiarized with the goofy relationship Dog and Bugga have, let me share with you a story....

I brought home some delicious Somoa Girl Scout cookies the other day and immediately handed one to Bug and middle Child. Bugg kept saying "mow! mow!" I told him no and Middle Child put the box up so Bugg couldn't get to them. We were gone for NO MORE than 30 seconds and upon our return, found Laney with a box of GS cookies on her head, and Bugg with a Samoa in each hand, looking smug.

Let's take a step back and look at this whole thing and point out the magic...

1. Dogs Do Not Gently Help Themselves To Table Stuffs  - They rip them down, shred them and ingest them.

2. Dogs Typically Do Not Go After Things That Do Not Have a Strong Smell - Steak, Chicken, garbage... sure. But GSC are virtually scentless... like a Chips A'Hoy

Here is what I think happened here... Bugg walked up to Laney and said (in whatever magical language that small children and animals share) "Look, Dog... We both know she isn't going to give you any of those delightfully delicious cookies, because she's a bitch. She won't give me any more either. Why don't we see what we can get accomplished... I can't reach that box, but I bet you can...."

The end result being Laney jumping on the counter, retrieving that cookies and presenting two to Bugga before digesting the other 10.

I now think that every time they run around the house together they are planning and scheming. No snack is safe... Between Bugg's highly developed human brain and Laney's height (not to mention their secret language...) We are all doomed.

So what do ya think?

I was reading one of my favorite blog.... The Klonopin Chronicles and fell in love... She mentioned that she was at a Starbucks getting coffee and when the Barista gave it to her, he said, " All the decisions we've made in our lives have led us to this moment"

Whooooaaaa... That's heavy. 

So now, what do you think?

I've made a bunch of mistakes. from time to time people ask me if I have regrets... I really don't. If I hadn't made every single stupid decision I might not be who I am today. I kinda like me. Sure, it would have been an easier road, but I might not have been better... I might have just been some self-entitled asshole. Me is pretty ok. 

I don't really want to go much farther with this blog. I'd really like to do is hear how YOU feel. What does that statement mean to you? How do you feel about your choices? What would you do if you could do it all over again... or would you even try?  

Terrible Twos.... I love you.

After nearly two years of dressing him funny, this day was bound to come. Ugga Bugga has officially at 17 months reached terrible two territory. I happened in an instant just yesterday, He discovered he could throw a fit to express his displeasure in any situation. No more will crying be reserved for the mundane 'I'm hungry...sad...scared...' Now we can whip that voice out and just generally fuck some shit up if shit don't go our way.

It started Sunday morning.... I was trying to get myself and Bugga ready for a baby shower. All we needed to do was lay little Bug down for his normal nap time and Momma would get ready. Life was to be beautiful...

Nope.

9 am nap time came and went. So did 10 and 11 am. There was no way. I was going to be lucky if I left the house in pants. That's when it happened. I was in the bathroom applying various creams and sundries to my naturally beautiful and completely refreshed from a full night sleep (whut???) face. Bugga struck. He wanted o put his hand in the toilet. Sounds reasonable, right? Sure, kid... Why not? I intervened.

This enraged my normally adorable little Ugga Bug. He turned red. He swatted at me. He bent at the knees as if he were dancing.... He screamed as if I were beating his baby ass.

There would be no Bugga at the baby shower. If I brought this kid, the poor girl would likely opt for adoption. She'd return all the gifts, call an agency and use the money from the gifts to develop an alcohol addiction. Trust me, I've considered it.....

This morning Ugga Bugga Daddy had to go somewhere. Bugga typically spends his days with UBD and his nights with me. He dropped Bugs off at Auntie G's, took off his coat and sat him on the couch. Ugga immediately got sucked into the TV. G told UBD to skedaddle before he noticed. About 30 seconds later, Ugga broke out into full on "this isn't what I wanted to happen" rage. There was foot stomping, Gangnam style dancing.... The works. At first G tried to hug him and calm him down... Until she noticed ti was a fit. She walked away for about 30 seconds and he followed her into the kitchen sniffling ready to be a semi-rational member of the human race again.

Something tells me that if these same events would have happened at home it would have taken a little longer than 30 seconds...

UBD watched him melt down last night and said "Man, that kid is spoiled! Look at him!!!" I explained the fun that is the terrible twos and the fact that we will be dealing with it for at least a year... more if we give in. A few minutes later another 'tude storm occurred. UBD says, "Terrible twos.... I love you."

UBD can be an obnoxious mate and or human being, but he is a pretty damn good Daddy. This is his first and things have come instinctively to him that it took me two trial kids to figure out. I told him so the other night and he replied: "I just stop and think what my mom would have done.... and do the opposite." I laughed, but realized that was pretty much how I learned how to parent as well. Guess it has been working, too... My two oldest are 17 and 14 and they are pretty damned good kids. No teen pregnancies (beat me there!), middle son is in all AP and honor classes for High School and making fantastic decisions educationally (never applied myself til college!) and elder boy is just the sweetest and most compassionate boy on the planet...especially for 17. (I threatened to run away, kill my siblings... you name it)

Take that, mom. I will NOT have a bunch of kids just like me. :)