Women all over blogland take really cool pictures of themselves in mirrors.
I tried to shake the sleep off this morning as FringeBoy chased FringePup all around the house with his remote control monster truck. For some unknown reason, my killer guard dog is afraid of remote control cars. She runs, hides, pounces, but she never attacks. Well she attacks the mailman, but I think chasing mailmen is hard-wired into a dog’s genetic makeup. At any rate, it’s funny to see her interact with a battery operated hunk of plastic.
I stopped FringeBoy from his adventures in torturing our dog when I noticed the monster truck climbing up the lip of the dog crate. As you may have guessed, FringePup ran to her sanctuary, and as much as she makes my life difficult, I draw the line at the bedroom dog crate door .
“Stop, she’ll pee her pants!” I exclaimed over a cup of coffee.
Then it hit me, she doesn’t wear pants.
My son looked at me with question in his eyes.
This is my brain; this is my brain before caffeine.