Sh*t My Dogs Eat, Part Deux

Twins have a thing. A true DNA-level psychic connection, where they can directly sense thoughts or feelings from their siblings, no verbal communication necessary.

The Puggle and the Fuggle don’t really look anything alike, but they often have the same movements. They’ll sleep in the same shapes and change position at the same time to another same shape. They do the same pug head tilt, the same beagle tracking sniffs.

And they’re geniuses at conspiring together to steal food. They like Milkshakes, icing, and gravy, but they’re really not picky. The phrase, “You can’t teach an old dog new tricks,” only pertains to your idea of what the dog should learn. A dog can come up with plenty of new shit if left to its own devices.

CC and I are both in production right now on new shows, which means nobody’s cooking. Yesterday he ordered the kids a surprise pizza from work and had it delivered. They were pretty thrilled (bonus garlic knots and all).

Everybody got a piece of pizza. What happened next depends on who you talk to.

Jack swears he had nothing to do with it. He only had to pee.

Pugglesaywhat — Fire safety is very important and I had nothing to do with the pizza.

#4 claims that Casey got a piece of pizza and took it into the crate.

#5 revealed that Casey pulled the entire pizza box down off the counter, causing the remaining half of it to land cheese-side-to-the-floor and then stole the piece that was witnessed by #4.

When questioned how Casey managed to access the pizza box, #5 blamed Jack for having to go outside. He took Jack out and his sisters, in typical sisterly fashion, let him do all the work and stopped paying attention to anything beyond their phone screens, including any errant Puggling sounds.

Because God knows shit like this never happens at our house and it’s totally okay to check out like that.

#5 also neatly tossed #4 under the bus for getting mad at him for throwing away the three remaining slices that landed tits-up on the kitchen floor.

Casey’s not talking. She’s got a belly full of pizza and is remarkably unconcerned.

Nothing about this story surprises me.

Last summer, CC grilled a gorgeous side of salmon on a cedar plank for the kids’ dinner. The babysitter left to take #5 to scouts and came back to discover a $90 broken plate and a distinct absence of an ENTIRE SIDE OF SALMON. This was the day we discovered Casey had yet again increased her vertical reach.

Shortly after the salmon incident, I had a chicken dish in the slow cooker. It smelled pretty good when I left for work. #4 made some iced tea and left the 10-pound bag of sugar sitting on the counter. I’m still not entirely clear on why a 10-pound bag of sugar is an iced tea requirement, but the Puggles smelled chicken and grabbed the thing that was within reach.

Then #5 sent me this video, which made me happy that we finally got him a smart phone.

A Bad Day at Basketball…

…is hilarious.

#5 had a basketball game on a Saturday when his Dad and I were both at work. I texted him at intermission to see how it went.

Me: How was basketball?

#5: I was fouled by a violent kid every play but it was never called and i never got the ball because of that then i couldnt play defence on him because he hurt me and grabed his way throughthen i was knocked down by him three times and the third time i hit my head and sat out for 8 minutes and we also lost by like twenty points so it really wasnt that fun until i got to cover someone else for 4 minutes at the end.

Usually when I ask this question– whether in person, on the phone, or via text– I get a “fine” in response.

Me: Man, that sucks, bud. Sorry. At least you know you don’t play like a jerk like that kid does. How is your head?

#5: Fine.

Me: You’re still handsome.

#5: …..

Me: Unless that kid beat you with an ugly stick.

#5: ……

Me: He didn’t, did he?

#5: No they wood count that as a foul on me because i came in contact with it.

For more adventures with #5 and his amazing powers of observation, here’s a link to my post on Family Circle’s Momster blog, Doing the Dirty Work. It may or may not also have something to do with my mad housekeeping skillz.

I am Totally Paying Attention to You.

#5 was looming.

I don’t mean he was sulking and brooding in the corner; I mean he had the Rainbow Loom and assorted bands spread out all across the dining room table.

His sudden reinterest in the Loom was, unsurprisingly, spurred by an argument. A little girl came to visit: our babysitter’s niece, age 3. She spent most of Saturday at our house and as it turns out is just as inquisitive and stubborn as #5. At the babysitter’s suggestion, they played with the Loom and found themselves at odds over many things: namely, the right way to do it, and whether maroon should be referred to as “red”, “pink”, or “purple”. He rehashed so many of their arguments for me that I could tell he is smitten. I fully expect them to marry.

Sunday morning all the supplies were still out on the table. #5 ran in through the door after Sunday school and went right to it.

There is an internal law in a kid’s mind that says unless someone witnesses every step of what they are doing, it didn’t happen. I am often called to witness. At times this witnessing is a mutually enjoyable experience; this was not one of those times.

This was one of those times where I didn’t care about the damn Rainbow Loom and I could tell he wasn’t listening to me anyway and would have been just as happy with the dog as a witness. All morning he kept dragging me away from what I was trying to finish, making me watch something that to my eye looked exactly like what he had shown me five minutes before, and would then run right over anything I attempted to say in response with his own internal, out-loud monologue. This is when I would walk away, invariably to be pulled back several minutes later.

I did, finally, get his attention.

#5: Look! Look!

Me: What.

#5: I’m inventing a new weave!

Me: Cool.

#5: Do you know what this design is going to be?

Me: What.

#5: Awesome, that’s what.

Me: Nice.

#5: Man, I hope this holds together when I pull it off the loom.

Me: Man, me too. Otherwise you’re just a complete and utter, abject failure.

#5 looked up with his mouth open to find me smiling. I could see him working through how to respond, first thinking you’re not allowed to say that! followed by an immediate realization of who he was actually talking to. He and the two sisters in the room all laughed at the same time.

#5: Oh my God. I can’t believe you said that.

Me: I can’t believe you finally listened to me.

He carried on looming.

Me: Hey, let me know how that works out for you, okay?

Despite all that, I would like to report I am now the proud owner of two new bracelets (of a traditional weave).