What Can I Say, I'm a Gambler.

Remember my last post about how I thought we had entered that sweet spot of parenting? 

Where the kids were both old enough to be somewhat independent, yet little enough to be somewhat innocent. And how suddenly life felt markedly easier?

Yah, well, 

we pretty much effed that whole situation up by deciding to get a puppy.
What can I say, I'm a gambler.

Meet Scout.

Yes, he is adorable and squishy and a serious lovey.
And a good thing too, because DOG FARTS, which are a unique kind of foulness.
Not to mention the potty training, (two words: New. Carpet.)
And the getting up in the night to shush him. And the chewing. So much chewing.
I didn't even want a dog!
We had our last dog, Buster, for about 10 years and he was the best.
 "We'll never have a dog that good again", we said.
"Let's just not have a dog," we said.
Ah, but I am a sucker. One look into that puppy face and I was toast.
Not even two weeks after moving into the Forever house Husband started randomly showing me pictures of puppies every night. I threw his phone like it was a hot potato. I can't look at that! I can't be seeing that! I don't stand a chance!
Which he knew.
It was only a matter of time, really.

Luckily, the kids are obsessed with him.

I might be too. I may or may not have even snuck him up on the couch when Husband wasn't looking.

Look at that face! I'm so sure! It's as if his eyes are saying "If you love me, you'll let me up.  It'll be our little secret."

So instead of preparing for the holidays or reading or relaxing or doing ANYTHING else, while the rest of my family goes about their normal lives, I'll just be following this guy from room to room keeping him out of trouble and spending roughly %40 of my day outside in the cold waiting for him to poop or pee at his leisure. 

Dogs, man.