Number 2

Last week and much of the week before we took care of the dog of one of Derrick's co-workers. It was really pretty enjoyable--Jasper's a great dog, well-behaved, and we definitely enjoyed having him around. Sylvia, I think, was especially excited to have a dog around. She was a little rougher with him than I wanted her to be (pulling hair and poking and sitting on him and such) but she was also very loving toward him.

Unfortunately, she seems to have picked up a bad habit.

Jasper, like all dogs, potties outside. Sylvia now also wants to potty outside. Saturday she pooped outside, which was gross, and made even more gross when Jasper oh-so-helpfully licked up the poop we couldn't easily pick up. We talked to her about it and since then she's been good about going where she's supposed to.

So, this afternoon Derrick and I were running the errands we've neglected for the last while (Sylvia's been home since last Tuesday afternoon because the scrape on her chin refused to heal. Miraculously, a few days away from the wipes and band-aides her teachers were using to treat the scrape--and Sylvia is, incidentally, allergic to--and the scrape was mostly healed. Unfortunately, the doctor called it impetigo, so I had to keep her home anyway. Grr). As our conversation meandered 'round, we talked about Sylvia's pooping incident and speculated on how we would react if Sylvia pooped outside at school. Both of us agreed, while it would be embarrassing, we'd each have a hard time not laughing.

And indeed, when I got to school and Sylvia's teacher informed me she'd pooped outside once and peed twice, in spite of my doubtless very red face, I had a hard time not laughing.