How many points did I say you’d get for being the first to guess the new dog’s name? 25? I don’t remember, but Gretchen wins. The dog’s name is now Jake. Like I said yesterday, he is too small for that name, but he is a bit wolfish. Maybe?
And, much like the Jacob of the Twilight books, I didn’t much care for his presence at first, but was fine with it in the end. Not that we’re to the end around here by any means, but I’m a dog person and it’s not the dog’s fault it was unnecessarily expensive and poorly timed. So I know I’ll be fine with the dog. I’ve even taken it for a walk today. And I laughed just a bit when Midge accidentally threw the tennis ball in the deep end of the pond and the dog jumped in after it.
Speaking of the pond, have I told you of its great value as a disciplinary tool? When one of the kids starts throwing a fit or is openly defiant or whatever, we send them trucking around the pond. One lap for every year of age was the original deal, but Midge was all, “Oh, five laps? No problem! I can run five laps! I loooooove to run five laps!” Then, as she ran her five laps, she would give us the thumbs up and, with a great big smile, shout out her lap count as she ran by.
So we upped it to two laps for every year of age.
The oldest two kids are remarkably good anyway, but there has been a drastic improvement in their behavior nonetheless.
“Clean our room? Sure! Scrub the bathroom? You’re the boss mom!”
Well, they’ve never actually called me the boss, but they do say “Aye aye captain!” I swear I don’t make them do that. I never even asked them to do that. But they do it.
It has turned out to be most beneficial (to my sanity) when dealing with Tank Boy. I think I’ve mentioned before (know I have) that his behavior has mysteriously improved by leaps and bounds since we moved. Odd. But, still, there are the times when he gets all screamy and whiny. Now he gets to work out his screaming and whininess while running laps around the pond. By the time he finishes (and I usually only make him run one lap for each year) he’s much subdued and I have not had to endure the assault on my ears and emotions. If he hasn’t clamed down, he runs a few more laps. It works. We can actually talk about whatever the situation is after the running is finished.
Anyway, I have a picture of Midge doing her latest round of laps (from some day about two weeks ago) and I was going to post it here on the blog without a password. She put sunglasses on as she headed out to the pond (what is she? 16?) so I figured much of her face is obscured. Right?
But now, now, and here is the other thing, I just don’t know . . . too many people are finding my blog by searching for “co*oter in the bed of my truc*k”. It wouldn’t have caused me much concern had you all not informed me what the slightly more . . . umm . . . traditional meaning of the word co*oter is.
I thought previously that I got a lot of hits from people searching under terms that involved the words “squat” and “potty” (apparently other people also have kids to who use the restroom in this manner, and some of them are deeply concerned by it), but really, nothing compared to this country song stuff. And remember how I said it sounded like she was singing “slushing” though the word is actually “sloshing” (because “slushing” is not a word)? At least one person out there thinks she is singing about a “co*oter slushie,” which, of course, is deeply disturbing. Alas, those were the search terms which brought said person to my blog.
So, no pictures of my children without a password.
Except for those that don’t show faces:
Obviously this picture would be much better if the dog* hadn’t walked into it, and if the toys weren’t in the background, and if I made it black and white. But whatever, there they all are. What you can’t tell from the picture is that the girls are practically dragging Quinn. He was having none of this picture taking stuff, which is why I didn’t try to get a better one.
And George, if you’re out there, Tewt the Newt says hello.
*This would be the twelve-year-old chow mix. He and the new dog are coming to terms with each other fairly well so far. It’s just, you know, difficult for them to determine the winner in a contest to see who can be the most submissive.
“You make the first move.”
“No! After you.”
“This was your home first. I insist!”
“Ah, but you are new! I would be remiss and inhospitable if I did not defer to you.”
A bit of growling
“NO! Dammit! I am deferring to you!”
And so it goes.
The little terrier/road kill mix has already established the fact that the new dog is not to come anywhere near her. The older of the two cats has likewise established his authority. The other cat just peers around the corner at the dog whilst he barks at her. They are going to be fine.
You, however, probably need something that requires a prescription to get your brain re-started after reading this episode of The Daily Drivel.