Thursday, March 25, 2010

i spell trouble t-i-g-g-y

 (who me?)

don't let that face fool you, folks.

i know.  it's hard to not get lost in those innocent eyes.


this morning i just about called the cops on that boy.  haul him away, boys!  i wanted to say.  but i didn't.  i just about threw him out onto the cold porch to fend for his chubby self.  but i didn't do that either.  instead i told him to pack his bags.  he didn't seem too concerned.

for the last month he has woken me up every morning.  (every morning!)  at 5:30.  oh i'm sure it's fine training for when i have someday-children but for friggin frack's sake.  let me rest, tiggs!

this morning he woke me up, not only at 5:30, but continued to bother me, after i got up to escort him to his food bowl, until almost 6.  see, that's the thing.  he wants food.  and he has it.  but he's a special boy.  see, he needs to be walked to his bowl.

now maybe you're thinking just sleep through it!  ha.  that is what i say to that.  ha.  this 15 pound wonder thunders across our bed.  over and over.  sometimes he runs around the whole house, up on ben's side of the bed, down on my side, running clear across our torsos, rinse and repeat.  it would be inhuman to sleep through such torture.

i am at my wit's end is what it is.  he has food.  he wants food.  but he cannot seem to figure out checking if he has food.  nope.  he goes straight for thundering.  i should record the noise.  it's almost laughable.

that chubby boy.  he may just be the end of me.


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