After an unreasonably long blog post about the Common Core Standards, I’m going to keep this short and sweet and topic-free.
First, our dog. She’s weird. She has picked one part of our fence and she barks at it. And digs underneath it. And barks some more. And has taken up licking it. LICKING THE FENCE. She has licked it so much that it has splinters all over it—I don’t even want to know what the inside of her mouth felt like while that was happening. At first I thought she had declared crickets her enemy number one, because they are always chirping right there, but they are all over and she is totally fixated on this one spot. Today I caught her trying to pull some of the bushes out of the ground in front of the fence—with her teeth—so that she could spend more time with her fence. It has gotten to the point where I have to take her out on her leash to have her go to the bathroom, because otherwise she won’t go (this has led to accidents in the house).
I tried spraying the fence with a combination of lemon essential oil and vinegar water (basically, what I use to clean the counters inside). She didn’t care. So I hosed that off. Which, of course, was my mistake because it left a nice big mud puddle where she likes to lie to lick the damned fence. Then, when she comes in, for which I have to drag her, I might add, she’s filthy. So I have to bathe her. But, of course, the bathroom is either up the carpeted stairs, or down the carpeted stairs.
I try to keep her away from that area, and she listens for a little while. But she’s staying away while obsessing about it.
On another subject, Henry loves it when I read to him. It’s great—we snuggle up on the couch or in an armchair, and he chooses books and we read them. He’s very deliberate about which books he wants in what order. But, in reading and rereading the Margaret Wise Brown books (specifically Goodnight Moon and My World), I keep coming back to the same issue. The books are about a bunny family (Henry calls the little bunny “Bunn”). They have a pet dog and two pet cats. And they appear unafraid at all times that the kittens to whom they are wishing a good night will eat them in their sleep. The books should be called “Brave Bunns”. The dog catches frogs… but not rabbits? Really? I get that it’s fiction and all, but it isn’t even plausible.
Also, my kids (and husband) have discovered the song “Thrift Shop”. And all of them want to listen to it all the time. Listening to it makes Henry run around the house like he has taken some pretty serious drugs and is tweaking out.
Finally, check out Henry’s new trick!