Parenthood started off at 8am this morning with the smell of puppy poop. Rupert had diarrhoeaed in his crate and stepped all over it so it was a two-person clean-up job -- one to tackle the dog and the other the crate. And all without the benefit of morning caffeine. L didn't even have his glasses on. HRH watched in shock from the foot of the bed. It was too early for her too.
Father and daughter have since retired back to bed. It's only 10.30am after all. The son is on my lap as I type, his chin in the crook of my elbow. What a sweetie. Of course the diarrhoea and early start are forgiven.
1 comment:
Oh too familiar an experience. Now just add to it the aging dog with no bladder control....
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