Friday, March 9, 2012

Meet Lucy

"Lucy" for those of you who might not know is Scout's new dog bed. At first he thought it was a big fluffy chew-toy, then decided that it was the perfect thing to dub as his girlfriend...if you catch my drift. SO FREAKING GROSS. We had friends over for dinner, and can you guess what the mid-dinner show was? That's right Scout and Lucy! (Evan put her in her room, and Scout laid in front of the door and cried) 
He is so embarrassing. 

Now we both refer to his bed as another member of the family. (We're really weird, I know) Texts like this from Evan crack me up. "She has green fuzz" like hes genuinely interested in learning something new about our son's new girlfriend. 

I got home and saw Lucy. Poor Lucy...she was laying in a deflated puddle in the middle of the living room floor. Indeed she had green fuzz, and it was strewn about the room like a murder scene. My blood pressure immediately rose. Seriously? I just spend $60 on a new dog bed that you're treating like a cheap date! I snatched it and loathsomely dragged it back the hall screeching "This is why we can't have nice things! Lucy has only been here for a week and you treat her like this!" Scout just followed me back the hall with a glazed-over, innocent I-don't-know-what-your-talking-about look. Exasperated I was crawling around gathering green fuzz like it was payday money and shrieking about the mess. 

Scout sat in the corner with his eyes following me around the room. I looked up and had a - If you weren't so freaking cute, you would totally be dead - moment. But he is totally cute, so it's not like I could stay mad. His eyes were worried (like normal) and weepy. He looked sad and embarrassed like he couldn't believe he gave in to the temptation. He was sitting there waiting for me to call him over to me and tell him it was OK, and that I don't hate him. 

I immediately felt regret. I mean he's a dog, does he really know better? I called him over and he sprinted towards me, practically knocking the wind out of me by landing in my lap. I kissed his face and strached his head. I told him he needed to be nice to Lucy, and that it made mom mad when she had to come home from work to a big mess. He cocked his head to the side and listened intently, taking every word to heart. Why does he have to be so cute? Or is he really good at acting really pitifully sorry?

I think it's the latter. 

If my future kids are as cute as he is, they might be able to get away with anything.

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