Thing 2 is a favorite of the Dog. She curls up next to him, often under the covers near his feet. This is generally a good thing, but Thing 2 likes bedtime snacks. Dog is a major hog. She will eat tubes of chapstick and gnaw away at recycled yogurt cups if a trace of yogurt can be detected. And while we discourage eating snacks in bed...I think it's been well-established that Thing 2 is, among many things, independent.

A recent foray to the kitchen found him producing a sandwich which he covertly (he thought) took back to his room. Minutes later, I heard some scuffling from above since I had retreated to the basement. I came up later where I found Big Man making a sandwhich while smiling.

"Did you hear the scuffle?"

"Well, I was curious, yes. But I figured you'd take care of it."

"Dog got the sandwhich he'd made for himself, and suddenly she slinks out his room while he's yelling 'Go away you stupid bitch dog'!"


Dog frequently gets into trouble, but I promise I don't call her a bitch. Out loud anyway. There are claims to be made about the definition of a female dog, but, you know, I am not in grade school anymore. I am an adult.


These are the kinds of things we aren't supposed to giggle about in front of the kid to perpetuate the problem. Instead, we giggled away in the kitchen while we left Thing 2 to fume and munch in solitude. We could defend ourselves with technicalities...but why bother?

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