Friends

Note from Andy

"Truck! TRUCK TRUCK TRUCK! Truck.... Ball? Ball! Ball BALL!"

"SIDE? SIDE! outSIDE! SIDE! SIDE! Truck?!"

"Choo Choo! CHOO CHOO! Ball? Truck!"

"No no. NOOOOOOOOO NOOOOOOOOO. No! NO NO! Side?"

"Ehl-mo. Ehl-mo. EHLMO TRUCK! TRUCK! TRUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!"


"....peeze?"

Tastes like Chicken

Our son is no longer a vegetarian. He ate a chicken flavored dog biscuit today.

Why would any self-respecting parent allow her son a dog biscuit, let alone admit to it? Well, start thinking of the most annoying sound you’ve ever heard--like when you were little and your Saturday morning cartoons were interrupted by the high pitched “eeeeeeeeeeeeeee” from the Public Broadcasting System--then amplify this sound by 1,000, and you’ll begin to have some idea why I gave into Andy’s cries for one of Lucy’s dog biscuits.

Our morning went something like this: Andy woke up and wanted to watch his Fire Truck video. I let him watch it once. As soon as the credits rolled, he was overcome with devastation. The world would end if he couldn't watch that Fire Truck vide just one more time! My lighthearted “all done!” wasn't working, so I desperately looked for a distraction. Then I spied them: Lucy’s organic Newman’s Own Dog Buscuits on the counter.

“Look Andy, pictures of doggies. See the doggies? Here’s one that looks like Lucy.”
Sure enough, the bag of treats piqued Andy's curiosity, but not because of the picture on the package. He saw COOKIES inside!

"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!"

“Yucky. These are for Lucy. Yucky for Andy.” I tried my best, but his demands not only continued, but increased in pitch and volume.

So, I read the ingredients. Nothing that could really harm him. I’ll give him a taste, he’ll realize how terrible it is, and he’ll believe my word from now on. This was my thinking when I handed him the heart shaped dog biscuit.

And so my story ends with Andy happily toddling around the house, carniverously devouring every chicken-flavored morsel of his dog biscuit.