Sudden Milestone

After a rough night with "no crib" Kate, I posted her crib on Craigslist. We're now sporting $150 and have a used toddler bed that Kate is spending her first night in.

Tomorrow, Paul will pick up another Craigslist toddler bed... with mattress, Spiderman quilt, sheet & pillowcase... for Will. We think that the character draw will entice him away from his super-comfy pillowtop double bed.

We may not have a tub, shower, sink, vanity, porch, or study together for my Mom and Aunt Linda while they watch the kids while we're away... but both of them will get their own beds!

And Will and Kate get to share a room for a little longer...

Happy Birthday, BabyCakes

When you were born, I made one specific request: "Please, Kate, don't grow as fast as your brother. I need to stay little just a little bit longer..." Apparently, doing what you're told has not exactly been a strong suit. Good thing you're cute.

Fresh out:
Two weeks (Will is 2 1/2):
Four months:
(with Will, almost 3):

7 months:
12 months:


15 months:
17 months:
18 months:
23 months:

To Kate, who, exactly two years ago, I was in mortal agony over

Really, we were in mortal agony; I may have been fighting through scarring with "contractions from hell," but you were swallowing your own poop. Even before you were born, you were fighting through filth, beating the odds. What can I say? It means you're totally my girl.


Lately, I've been reading up on 24 month milestones. The American Academy of Pediatrics says that you should be climbing off of furniture independently, walking up and down stairs with support, scribble, use simple phrases, imitate others, play make-believe, and show defiant behavior. Based on this information, I feel I can reasonably assume that what everyone is saying is true: you're way ahead of the game. You crawled at five months. You walked at nine months. You've been speaking in sentences for months. At this rate, you may finish your dissertation before I finish mine.

As for your dissertation, maybe it will be on fashion? You've got a real flare for trend-setting. Hats for warmth? Nah, it's all about fashion. Who cares if it's 80 degrees? It still might snow.
Your Nana was in town for a week, two weeks ago (this shows that your rapid development is a direct threat to my regular blogging). Her professional (and only partially biased) insight is what really drove it home, "being with Kate is just like being with any 2-year old... until you realize that she is not 2."
Your fierce independence is starting to mess with our household set-up. You still don't consistently sleep through the night, and we've run into problems with putting you back in your crib. Like the other night, when you popped out your Abby from a solid sleep to clearly tell your father: "DADDY, NO BACK IN CRIB." Since then, getting you to sleep in your crib is a major challenge. You slept on Will's bed three nights in a row while he spent a week with Granna and PapPap's at Uncle Skip and Aunt Emily's (his first trip with the grandparents and longest time ever away from Mom). The last two nights, you've been sleeping soundly in a twin bed at the apartment downtown. You're ALMOST 2 and have made it clear you're done with being fenced in. You've also made strides in potty training, something else which you have begun without warning, by your own choice, with your own rules. As with most things, we've decided that the best course of action is to let you control the situation. The last thing we want is for you to realize that you could make some serious power plays in your pottying.


Our plan was to start after we got back from Peru. Your plan was to be potty trained before swim season, and you're doing a great job of getting there. The biggest issue? You lose patience on the pot... sometimes before you're finished. We've tried to encourage you to bring reading material to keep you on the pot longer. It doesn't work for long.

You and Will are forever locked in battle. You cannot be in the same room without touching each other, and any contact results in a complete attack. My Grandmother had a phrase in Ukrainian, "From Laughter to Tears" which accurately describes every 5 minutes between you and Will. This has brought a new phase in our household: you and Will cannot be compelled to do anything unless your father or I have a conniption fit. I actually think that time outs, forced separation, and injuries bring comfort to you both: you cannot go to bed each night without at least a dozen or so of each of the above. It must bring a necessary order and balance to your lives. Also, it whittles away at my sanity, which is probably your main intent.
You had a full conversation on the phone tonight with your PapPap. You told him about your "ow-ee" which you got about a month ago when your friend Anya pushed you on the porch at school. You tell everyone about your ow-ee, which is now a scar so faint that one has to remember the injury in order to realize that there ever was an ow-ee in that spot. You also told him about the shoes by the door (the ones that were covered in debris and dust and I painstakingly washing and cleaned), about your dinner, and about Will. You may have also told him the winning lotto numbers for tonight, we can't be sure, because we're still reaching to figure out all of what you say. You've got an awful lot coming out, but we're lucky to catch half.



We are so thrilled with every moment with you. I am so worried about our coming trip... how will I manage three weeks away from you? Maybe a more important question is how are your Granna and Aunt Linda going to handle caring for you? They cannot be prepared for the cuteness that awaits them. I'm telling you right now: if we come back and there is a pony in the yard, I don't care who gave it to you... it's not staying.
Happy Birthday, Baby Kate! We are so proud of you!

"Kate, give me a big girl smile!"

Almost time for Elmo Underwear

It's a red-letter day in our house... Kate asked to sit on the potty AND THEN USED IT FOR THE VERY FIRST TIME. It's tough to appreciate the momentousness of this occasion if you don't yourself have children, and I was trying to think of something that would compare. The joy of a teenage boy who just got to first base for the first time...? The relief of a parent who has just paid their last college tuition check for their child...? No, it's more like being covered in a sea of poop and for years and suddenly being lifted out into the sunshine. You are filled with an unbelievable feeling of what the clean world could be like and long for each moment to be so lovely...

We actually think this potty training thing could happen soon. Kate: thank you for being an early talker. In this situation, we REALLY appreciate your tenacity at growing up.
Extra fun: NANA (Paul's Mom) arrived today and was able to share in Kate's big day!

To my daughter, who is almost two... years away from world domination.

After living through your brother at the age of 3, I became totally cool with the "terrible" twos. Not a problem, I thought, bring it on. So as you have approached age 2 and started to show independence (read: pushing tired parents to their limits of sanity), I have been feeling pretty laid back about it. I've done it before, so I figured it would be easier this time around.

I forgot the Number One Rule of parenting. NOTHING EVER GETS EASIER.

I am realizing that a toddler at age 2, when accompanied by an older 4-year old sibling, is a Very Different Experience. Just like how watching all that water spill down Niagara Falls from the Canadian shoreline is a very different experience from, say, rolling down the falls in a barrel. In one, you can admire the power and majesty in relative safety. The other could kill you.


It is impossible to talk about how you are changing and growing without mentioning your brother. He is your best friend, your constant advocate, your watchdog... as well as your bully, your punching bag, and your collaborator in the grand plan to Break Mommy. I admit that it's all my fault that you both are bent on my destruction; I set it all up myself. I've thought about this, ruminating on how you have identified my weaknesses and have pinned it to the moment when I found you happily eating cat poop. There you sat, brown smears all over your face, and watched enthralled while my entire body went boneless and my tongue fell out of my mouth, and I had to fumble around for 10 minutes groping for words, cleaning supplies, and whatever drug erases memory. In stark contrast was your Dad, who sort of looked over his shoulder, like, 'what? cat poop? dude, I ate WAY worse in college.' You realized two things then and there: 1. that I am an easy target; and 2. the melt down is totally worth it.

I figure this is proof positive that you are The Brain to Will's Pinky, because I swear I didn't have nearly as many break downs when he was this age. And it's not YOU. And it's not HIM. Separately, both of you can be quite pleasant. It's THE TWO OF YOU, TOGETHER. You've worked out each and every one of my buttons so well that working together, the pair of you can naturally and seamlessly move between one area (say, grossing me out) to another (like, flirting with dismemberment) without pause.
This is not to say that you aren't a challenge on your own. Mostly, your challenges come from the fact that you are stubborn and can seriously hold a grudge. Case in point: when I took you inside at dusk and removed your wet dress to ready you for the shower. The following pictures document a solid 15 minutes of Conniption Fit, where you picked up your dress from the floor and worked hard to put it back on, growing more angry the more tangled you got. Two days later, when I took this dress out of the laundry to hang it up, you grabbed it from the hanger and threw it to the ground. Whoa, I thought, THAT is an impressive grudge.

Now that I think of it... the dress has little flowers on it, which is making me wonder if you are associating your anger with the dress on my petunias, since your "helpful" dead-heading is kept primarily to new, fresh blooms?
For someone that knows how to keep a grudge, you are amazingly forgetful about your own transgressions. It goes like this: you and your brother are locked in some kind of epic tickle or bouncing or running event and someone (read: your brother) gets hurt. Or alternatively, you just walk right up to him and smack him on the head. Either way, Will ends up crying and you end up apologizing. We ask you, "Kate, did you hurt Will?" And you blink all blank-face and say, "yeah," in this 'did I do that?' way that makes it hard to keep a straight face. Will is ready and set to brood for at least 10 minutes, but you recover in an instant. Like, 'I know I totally just power-drived you into the floor, but hey, let's go empty Mom's sock drawer and see if we can make her face split open to the bone, 'cause that is totally cool.' And in an instant, you've turned him around. Because no one can stand mad at you.


One of the most exciting parts of being with you these days is your incredible language development. You blow everyone away with your words, which is impressive considering that no one understands more than 25% of what you say. When you really get on a roll, babbling on and on about this and that, gatos and doggies, Emmy and Elmo (favorite points of conversation), I run for the camera. I am so eager, desperate even, to capture these precious moments of your turn from toddler to child. Which explains why the emergence of the camera always causes you to shut right up.
It is amazing that you speak as much as you do, mostly because you still spend a lot of time with your pacifier stuck in your mouth. We have high hopes of potty training you in the next few months, so between that and starting a new school, we've decided to hold off on pacifier removal until the fall. Even mentioning our desire to wean you, partially or completely, from the Thing causes your Granna great distress: she's certain that the root of every problem Will has or is going to have for the rest of his life is connected to our weaning him from the pacifier at age 3. But we have a plan. Although your brother is still 3 years away from having permanent teeth, he has already been given a referral from our dentist to see an orthodontist. We intend on forwarding on all orthodontia bills to Granna and figure that this will bring drastic change to her extreme support of the pacifier. But it will be okay. You are the strongest kid we know and will do fine without the Abby (your name for the pacifier, why, we have no idea). Although I admit that seeing you with it makes me feel that you are still my baby, at least, for a little bit longer...

Kate's Nose.

About 48 hours after the bonk. See those black lines under her eyes, too? TOUGH COOKIE.

Bluebonnet Swamp

In order to let Paul crank up his efforts of getting the back ready for insulation this Thursday (and because our A/C was suppose to be installed) -- I took the kids to Baton Rouge for the day on Saturday. Although the A/C guy never showed up (thank goodness for the unseasonably cool weather... high 60s, low 70s?!) Paul enjoyed a full day of work in glorious weather and I had a great time with the kids.

We went to Bluebonnet Swamp Nature Center. The map suggests it's just south of the downtown area. This was the first time I'd ever been to Baton Rouge, so all I can tell you is that it's smack in the center of suburbia -- the Mall of Louisiana is about a mile up the street (it's bigger than my entire college campus, and I went to a Big School) and about 2 miles from the Super Stores strip mall, a terrifying maze of parking and mega centers.

The Swamp Center is 101 acres of preserved land in the middle of all that madness. The Center offers a fun learning center with an impressive collection of snakes and turtles, including a monstrous Burmese Python that could pop up, swallow me whole, and lay back down without showing even the slightest lump down it's massive body.

We walked two of the three walking paths (roughly a half a mile and a quarter mile, respectively). The paths are a mixture of wooden paths over the swamp and marshlands and gravel paths through the woods.

We knew that this (above) was a sweet gum because there were collections of them in the children's "hands-on" section. Also in the collection were nutria pellets, raccoon skulls, various leaves and seeds, layers of shed snake skin, and feathers.

We saw a bunny, who sat close by in a bush until Kate realized what it was and shouted, "HI BUNNY!" When he hopped away, she followed that with "BYE BYE BUNNY!" Dragonflies were plentiful. I played with the 28-135IS on the 10D... (although I haven't used the IS yet, silly me).

This is sort of what the park looks like, with several ravine sections that make the walk more dramatic than expected. The kids LOVED it. Will was pretty hot on a hunt for alligators... but was happy with the many tadpoles we saw. This is one of the first times I can remember truly seeing tadpoles -- complete with tails and little legs growing from their round bodies -- swimming around. I feel like I have to have seen this as a kind, hanging around in Dorchester Creek digging for sharks teeth at every free moment*, but I can't remember.
This is close to the head of the paths, near the Center. The kids spent a lot of time checking out the bugs here.
Inside, there was a fun play area with a tent, books, and a ton of stuffed toys. The kids dove in and I read them (okay, Will... Kate was too busy) a few nature books about turtles. At one point, Will dove into the tent and bonked Kate in the face. He pulled back crying "OW!" and I realized from his cry that he'd collided with Kate (I was behind Will and didn't have the side view to be sure), so I held my breath waiting for Kate's wail... which didn't come.

Instead, she scrunched up her face, looked uncertain, wiggled her nose a few times, paused... and then carried on as if nothing had happened. Okay, I thought, it must not have been that bad.

Thirty minutes later, when we left, her nose was red. I thought maybe she had a sunburn? Or maybe rubbed her nose too much with the sunglasses she'd be playing with? The head-bonk was already out of my mind, since it had been such a non-event; it didn't even occur to me that this could be the source of the red. It was still red when she went to bed, color deepening, which is when I remembered the collision.

Then this morning, she woke up with a HUGE PURPLE WELT on her nose. Two, actually. And eyes slightly black and blue. She looks like she was in a bar fight. Or been burned on the face. We figure that the bonk must have bruised cartilage in her nose? Maybe? She is completely fine otherwise... no tenderness when we touch it, blows her nose fine, etc. We're not sure about what we should do, if anything, but are sure that our girl is One Tough Cutie Patootie.


---
* In want of documenting this somewhere, my neighborhood friends, my brother, and I spent countless hours of our youth riding our bikes down to the Creek to dig for stuff in the water. It started when I got bored waiting around my brother's soccer games and practices... the YMCA and soccer fields were right by the Creek, which we had to cross over to ride home. So I could hang out there until everyone was done and then ride home with the family. You could just walk along the sides of the river and find little teeth in the dirt. My brother and I still have a tackle box filled to the brim with teeth and bones. It was fun and we spent a lot of time digging and searching and storytelling and imagining. One of the teeth was so impressive, that we took it to the Charleston Museum to ask about it. The museum was REALLY interested, asked where we got it from, and took notes. About a week later, a team of student scientists was there and had corded off our favorite spot... there was a big lump we liked to sit on to dig in the water at our feet. Turns out that big lump was a huge prehistoric turtle shell. The only one ever found intact (at least, at that time). Story ran in the paper and everything.

Insanity, Mommy Style

I read somewhere that siblings have moments of conflict an average of 3 times every 10 minutes between ages 2 and 4, and that this number rises to roughly 4.3 times every 10 minutes between the ages of 4 and 7.

In my experience, this is complete nonsense. There is no such thing has a moment without conflict with siblings of ages 2-4. None. Even if I hogged tied both kids at opposite sides of the room, I know that Will could communicate "I'm not touching you" through ESP enough to make his sister whine, and that Kate could look hard enough at Will's stuff to make him cry protectively over it. It's like having to sadistic magnets drawn by forces they can't understand and compelled to torture.


This is how it works.

Kate is sitting alone looking at a book. Will enters and begins to take over the book. Whining ensues.

M: "Will, please leave your sister alone. Kate please use your words."

W/K (in unison): "But I want to read her this book." / "NO WILL."

M: "Will. Listen to what she is saying. Does she sound happy? She is trying to tell you to leave her alone. Kate. Please no whining. Use your words."

W/K: "But... I want to read it to her." / "AUUUUGHHHHH."

M: "Will, why don't you find a book that you can read to Kate after showers toni...."

Kate pulls book free and smacks Will on the head with it. There are screams. A papercut injury may have taken place. You have 1 second to react before the situation really falls apart: you address them together, make them each apologize, then lock them in closets for the rest of the day while you soak your head in a bottle of rum.

Another example.

Will is laying on the floor making paper airplanes. Kate walks over and sits on his head. He thinks this is great fun and the two start to roll around the floor. You stop taking tequila shots long enough to consider whether it is better to let them attempt to destroy each other (because you know that the ONLY way for this to end is with tears) or to intervene YET AGAIN in that annoying Mom way that you swore you'd never use when you became a parent. The same voice you used so terribly five minutes before. After considering the quandary for a minute, you realize that after a few more shots, you won't hear the screams so clearly. You quicken the pace of your liquor.

I used to think that Paul constantly leaving his shirts inside out in the laundry would be the thing that pushed me over the brink of sanity. And while I die a little bit inside each time I find YET ANOTHER t-shirt that somehow did not right itself between removal and being thrown on the floor, I now know that what is really going to break me is a game of "MOMMMMM!! BUT SHE IS LOOKING AT ME!"

Antibiotics Update.

Kate is into her aforementioned script a few days. Don't ask me how many; I've already lost count.

We've forgotten a few doses. All but the first have required two people: one holding her down and the other forcing medicine down her throat. This method has a roughly 50% success rate at getting more than 75% of the dose down. Never is the dose complete. She always manages to spit, push, or drool some of it out. I have become expert at removing pink stains.

This is exactly why I swore off antibiotics when Will was her age. I can't imagine that my experience is a-typical. I'm a good parent. I'm pretty on-top of things. And I'm savvy enough to try lots of angles at medicine-giving. Maybe the ability to give a child resisting medicine is a skill... but WHERE would any parent learn it, except with their child?

I know so many parents whose kids don't even take Amoxicillin anymore because it does nothing for the child. Is this because all of these kids have been given it like Kate... in partial doses with occasional misses? Giving the drug the perfect opportunity to be rendered useless and creating a stronger, more efficient and persistent bacteria in the process?? Even if a parent can give a med now... could they during the first couple of times the antibiotic was prescribed? Bacteria doesn't even cause ear infection pain... so why be in such a hurry to use a drug to get rid of something that is going to go away on it's own in less than a day later?? I need to understand these details. I really, really, really need to get a better picture of this, because I grow more frustrated at myself everytime I have to hold my screaming child down and hold her nose to force her to swallow something I not only doubt she needs, but strongly feel will threaten her health later. (Not to mention undermine the health of world, but that's another issue... it's not like I'm not trying to be dramatic or anything.)

I can remember working with physicians in a nutritional outreach program in India, trying to figure out why they were reporting no success. It took about 4 seconds to figure it out. I asked folks (the actual people in the community, not the physicians) how they used their vitamins. They don't. They throw them out. Tonics were the name of the game there... everyone wants a tonic. It's the vogue treatment of choice, not unlike the power of pills here. Give out whatever you want, but if it's not fully understood and appreciated... no one is going to follow the plan. One physician got it and changed the way he approached the use of the pills, explaining in more detail what they were and how they worked -- and offering suggestions for ways to crush up and create tonics with the medicine. I think that the experience highlights how people tend to seek something specific from physicians, the same way we might "shop" for a particular item, and throw out whatever is not part of our expectations. So, maybe if we go to a physician seeking a prescription and don't get one, that we feel it's not worth the cost of admission. Perhaps telling the parent of a child with an ear infection to just treat with Tylenol and hot compresses would seem like a step back in medicine after so many years of antibiotic treatment. Even though the previous practice was inappropriate and we know that now, providing LESS medicine at an appointment strikes the patient as poor medicine, so physicians comply with what patients want simply to keep them coming in. It is a business, after all.

I question the efficacy of this drug and its current use on my child and I'm ticked off that I didn't pursue the issue further. I'm not trying to challenge the doctor -- I am not a physician and respect that specialized knowledge -- but I have the capacity to understand the rationale for the treatment choice. And ultimately, that's all I want to know. What is the rationale and does it make sense? Is it based on evidence-based care, or a social expectation? If I can't make this kind of a stand, then how can good medicine ever be fully evaluated by patients?

Meanwhile, would it be better off to just stop the drug completely? Is it worse to stop midway through a poorly administered dosing schedule, or continue on with missed and partial doses until the 10 days are up? Either way, it's not good... but which is more harmful?

Ears and Tears

10 days ago, I took Kate to the doctor to get her 22-month wellness and weight check (23.2 pounds). She had fluid in her ear. Doc asked her to come back in 10 days.

Result: original ear cleared up fine. OTHER ear is infected. Doctor suggests antibiotic, strongly suggests it, since I am a let-it-go-on-it's-own type of parent when it comes to ear infections. I relent, she is certain it's AOM, and she makes me feel that it may be involved in such a way that clearing up the infection a bit faster may be important. I like the thoroughness of this doctor and she's been very okay with my (clinically founded and AAP/AAFP recommended) desire to use caution with the use (or, in this case, overuse) of antibiotic for ear infection treatment. So we filled the script.

Thankfully, Kate was happy to take the medicine. It just took her awhile, because she preferred to sip from the syringe between: 1. twirling in circles until she fell over; 2. bending over to walk on all-fours; 3. squealing and shaking her head maniacally; and 4: running the length of the kitchen shouting "MYBABY MYBABY MYBABY" between giggles.

Maybe my experience of seeing really sick people desperate for any medicine and dying for want of an antibiotic has jaded me. Maybe now I am a poor judge of wellness. But seriously, is this a child who currently needs medicine because of illness?

Our Sweet Tough-Cookie Girl

Kate fell... actually, more than once... tonight. The first time, she took out her cheek. (See the big bruise on her right cheek?) I wanted to document the Big Fat Bad Bruise, the camera came out, and Kate gave me her signature move: CHEESE!

Better View of the Boo-Boo

She's not wet from tears (although there were some) -- she's wet from the ice pack we put on her cheek... she ripped open the bag and ate the melting ice. And asked for "More Ice, Please" for the rest of the night.

The Patooties are BACK!

My Mom was worried about doing the halfway pick-up and drop-off tomorrow due to the ominous weather reports coming in. That, and her major organs were shutting down to accommodate the extra energy required to watch our kids. So, Paul drove us both out to Gulfport tonight to meet my Dad... who handed over the kids. They're baaaack!


On Tuesday night, my Dad took Will to see the "Horton hears a Who" movie. (Paul: "You saw 'Horton hires a H... nevermind.") Upon entering the movie-plex, Will turns to my Dad and says, "OH, PapPap... I smell some DELICIOUS POPCORN in here!" Tricky little rascal, that one. So, Will tells us, he and PapPap watched the movie --- with popcorn AND A SODA!! Will reminded us of both (the popcorn and THE SODA!!) once every 10 minutes during the entire ride home. The SODA was always discussed by Will in all caps.

Kate is covered in boo-boos which require band-aids. These are microscopic boo-boos, which no one else can see. But don't try to tell her that she's fine. She'll say OWWWWEEEE over and over again until that band-aid is applied.

Will told us that he couldn't brush his teeth tonight because he had been at Granna and PapPap's for SO LONG that he didn't remember WHERE the bathroom was in our house!! Luckily, Paul and I, senile as we're getting, managed to remember for him.

Kate is talking more and more. In general we understand about half of what she says, mostly because almost half of her speech is the word "MY." Examples from tonight include:
"My Bath" (The tub in Granna and PapPap's bathroom)
"My Daddy's Phone" (Paul's cell phone)
"My Baby" (Her name for herself)
Kate slept in both nights at my parents' house. She also went down to sleep easily and slept through the night.

She has never done any of the above in our home.

Kate winds down for bed.

Shutter speed: 1/15s. Kate speed: Warp Factor 5.2.

E-L-M-O. And The Dog.

On Saturday afternoon, we made Paul clean himself of debris from the back and walk around the block to Octavia Books, a local bookstore that also was one of Will's first words. (He loved walking in the bookstore during our walks around the block and would request "Octavia Books!" as a way to tell us he wanted to go for a walk.)
Here is Kate. Storytime had ended and we were waiting for The Big Event.
MEETING ELMO. WOW.

Elmo "signed" a book (a bookstore clerk stamped it with Elmo's signature) and I took some pictures.

Then, the day continued. Paul and Will went to the back to work on the house and Kate and I walked hand-in-hand to Whole Foods. We had just walked into the parking area when Kate saw The Dog. I had to tighten my grip on her as she tried to run with all her might towards the animal, who had noticed Kate and was equally struggling to reach her. The dog was probably a year or younger, of medium size, golden like a retriever with a fluffy tail and with big floppy ears. Very Cute. The dog and Kate finally met at the door, where they kissed and hugged and squealed with delight. I said to the woman holding the dog's leash, "What a cute dog." She hopefully replied, "Oh, the dog is up for adoption. He needs a home." I looked down at Kate loving on that puppy. Uh-oh.

"We have a cat," I quickly replied and scooped her up. We said goodbye and went into the store. Kate was great in the store, but I was worried about having to walk past the dog again. Then, I saw the dog's keeper in produce -- so I assumed that the dog had already found a home.

WRONG. We left the store and found the dog and woman again; she'd put the dog in the car for a second to get him a some watermelon. The Kate-dog love fest began again, with even more intensity. Seeing the dog was even more exciting to her than seeing Elmo, if you can imagine such a thing. I was getting desperate.

"My oldest got bit by a dog when he was little and is deathly afraid," I lied, knowing full well that Will has been begging for a dog for weeks.

This time, when I scooped up Kate, she began to cry. "Doooooooggggggg, Nooooooo, DOOOOOOGGGGGG!" She wailed, reaching with all her might over my shoulder.

And then, the dog started to whimper. Over her cries, the garage filled with his whimpers... followed by (and I am not making this up) his HOWLING. So there I am, holding a snack of groceries and a squirming, crying Kate who is reaching behind me calling out to this dog who is whimpering and howling to her.

I am pretty sure this puts me in striking distance of "The World's Worst Mommy" award. But we are not getting a dog!!!