Guest Post by Lauren (William's wife)
It is my pleasure to be once again guest blogging on Poop and Boogies. Today's post is meant to make all you parents out there who may occasionally question what kind of job you are doing, feel a whole lot better.
One morning last week, Max is happily watching NOGGIN, his favorite channel, Luna, our dog, is sniffing her way around the backyard, and I am cleaning up from breakfast before an appointment with a contractor. Our next door neighbors have a very sweet cat named Stormy, who occasionally will come into our backyard and, among other things, do her business. And occasionally, as some dogs are known to do, our lovely beast, Luna, likes to dig up these tasty little treats and, you guessed it, savor Stormy's homemade delicacies, to put it mildly.
Of course, I find this absolutely repugnant, so go out back to stop her and bring her inside, when OUR cat, who is an indoor cat, tries to make a break for it. Impressed with my own speed and agility, I quickly shut the back door before he is able to make his escape.
After reprimanding Luna for her incredibly uncivilized behavior (even for a dog) we make our way back to the door when...
Uh-oh, why is it locked? We never use the door knob lock, we always dead bolt it. Someone must have turned it by accident. No worries, Max is still inside watching TV, I'll just go around front. Nope. Front door is locked. Crap! We started dead bolting the front door since Max can now open it by himself. Ok, think, think, think. Oh, of course, I'll just use the remote garage door opener and go in through the garage! Genius! Thank God the new minivan is unlocked...the.. new.... minivan, that never gets parked in the garage, because there is too much junk in there, so we therefore never bothered to put the remote opener in there. Ok, now I'm sweating it. Wait! The next door neighbors have our key!And they're home! Hallelujah!! Knock on the door-
"We have your key? Umm,ok we'll check." (rifling through some drawers in the next room, there is some urgent whispering that I can't quite make out). Meanwhile, thoughts are racing through my head of what Max could possibly be getting into all by himself back at the home front:
Teetering at the top of our 16 + stepstairwell, doing belly flops off the back of the sofa, unplugging kitchen appliancesand sticking forks in the now vacant outlets (yeah, we're mostly childproofed). My God, my God! MY GOD, WHAT IS TAKING SO LONG??????????
"Uh, sorry, but I think we gave your key back to you , Lauren."
"Ok, then I need to use your phone, NOW!"
Thank goodness Bill only works 10 minutes away and happened to actually be in the office that day. I raced back home without so much as a goodbye, and thankfully found Max still transfixed by Little Bear (yeah, Little Bear, of all shows- who'da thunk it). So I sat there, whimpering with my face pressed up againstthe sliding glass door, waiting for my hero husband to arrive and save the day, all the while cursing that darn Stormy, gourmet poops and all.