I even chase after him when he bolts out the front door, even though what I really want is for him to keep running, until he's far, far away.
Since I haven't gotten to talk to you since you left for work this afternoon, let me give you a little taste of my evening. Or maybe I should put it this way:
This is the effect on your children (who are actual people who I love) when I have to run all over the freaking neighborhood chasing down that stupid STUPID dog (who is not a person and I don't). Or at least the condensed version:
- Brendan realizes that I'm not in the house and comes inside from pooping in the backyard.
- He freaks out, overpowers his brother who was put in charge on keeping an eye on him, and runs down the street in the opposite direction looking for me.
- With poop down his leg.
- And no pants on.
- 911 call placed.
I'm taking two tylenol PM, eating a(nother) bowl of ice cream, and I'll see you in the morning.