Manic Monday

This morning I woke up after a Benadryl induced coma good and solid night's sleep, to find my daughter crawling into bed with me.

First thing she says is, "Mommy, I love you want to play games."

I love you, too, Sweetheart ... maybe later.

Then she continues talking. Something about the dog. I open my eyes again. What? Something about the dog!?! What!? WHAT!?!

Yes, say it with me: "SHE LET THE DOG OUT!"
[Who? Who? Who-Who-WHO?]
{Don't judge me, you sang it in your head, too.}

My daughter, all of three+ years old, came downstairs while I slept soundly and let our dog out into the backyard. I didn't believe her. I shook my head, shook myself awake and went to the bathroom (odd reaction, you say? Well, hush -- here's why!) and looked out the window. There he was. Happy as a clam (what does that mean? Are clams truly happy? And if so, why? I should have picked happy as a pig in sh!t, cause we all can tell that's true)! Laying down on the concrete, just within my view.

Oh geez. She really did it. What the heck!?! Did she leave the door open? (Read = are all the cats gone now, too? I just saw one, so she's OK, there's another, what about the rest?)

Come downstairs before washing my face, goopy-eyed and all, and thank G-d the door was closed. Not super tightly, but closed. And THAT, my friends, was how my Manic Monday began! Here's to a stress-free week!!!

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