We have truly gone to the dogs. My husband and I had gone out for "a night on the town", without the kids. Granted, we were only driving thru at Taco Bell, but we were out. All of our children have four legs, fur and English is their 3rd language. They are born speaking whine, which is still employed by our 1 year old son at 6:30 a.m. on Saturday mornings when he can't find anyone to play with. They then progress to bark, which is adorable when they weigh 2 pounds and their bark sounds like a door squeaking. However, it loses appeal when they weigh 65 pounds and have the ability to bark, for hours, at the same squirrel in a tree. English is a distant third. While it is not a spoken language for the kids, it is understood on rare occasion. For instance, when they hear the word BATH. Bath is the universal word for "head for the doggy door, ASAP".
OK, back to the night out. We had just rounded the corner on the home stretch to the Bell when our daughter called. "Mom, what are you wearing?" I answered, "My best dress and some spiffy accessories." "You have on my collar again, don't you?!" "Well, yes.....". She interrupted, "Nevermind, just come home quickly. I'm expecting friends and I can't reach the hotdogs. And don't worry, I preheated the grill, and was able to put out the fire on the roof all by myself".
By the time we arrived home, the party was in full swing. Animal Planet was blaring on the TV, there was a lively game of fetch underway on the front lawn, and a small bonfire was blazing in the grill.
We did what any defeated parents would do. Handed over the hotdogs, and headed to Home Depot for repair supplies.