There aren’t any pictures to accompany this post. You can thank me in the comments.
So, I really hate to exercise, but I’ve been making an effort to do a 10-minute workout from a YouTube channel a few days a week before my lunch break. To force myself to do it, when I get dressed in the morning, I put on my workout clothes first thing.
I’m NOT coordinated on top of it, so yesterday’s video was this kickboxing one, and I just couldn’t figure out the moves. I was halfway through, and I decided to turn it off, get a glass of water, and do a different video. I came back upstairs with my glass of water, and there was Lucas in the hunched-over-heaving-back position we all know: He’s gonna blow. So, I did what anyone does whose dog throws up regularly. I whipped off my T-shirt, and caught the puke. (See? No pictures.)
As I was standing up – with full intentions of hustling him straight down the steps and outside because he always pukes twice – I see out of the corner of my eye Molly in that other squat position*. The first little poop had just hit the ground, so I used the sleeve of the barf shirt to pick it up. I picked Molly up in my other hand, and yelled, “OUTSIDE!”
I rushed everyone out, dropped the little poop from the shirt into the yard, tossed the shirt into the wash machine, and ran back out to see if Lucas was hurling again or if Molly was finishing pooping.
I stood in the middle of the yard, watching them all “go,” and I realized…
I didn’t have a shirt on.
(See? No pictures.)
*We have recently determined that, while Molly is crate trained, she isn’t quite house trained. Our fault. Since we integrated her with the boys, she thinks outside = fun play time, and we haven’t done a good job separating potty time. But we had her on a strict routine and hadn’t noticed that it was just rote. The routine changed. She’s had a couple accidents. Oops. We’re on it.