The weekend is upon us and we're playing it low-key. Last night, Leighton was fast asleep. Ryan sat in one of the leather club chairs, iPod Touch in hand, looking through the top hits of 1997, whilst I toiled away deciding whether my picture and Tweets should appear on the right or left hand side of my post.
As he scrolled through the list we joked that 1997 was not a particularly fabulous year for music. And, in true Tommy Boy, road trip fashion, we sheepishly pretended to haaaate the playlist. We faked our way through MMMBop, Wannabe and that goofy Chumbawamba tune. The Freshmen by The Verve Pipe - so good. Notorious B.I.G. Hypnotize and Mo Money Mo Problems - are you kidding me? No Doubt? - No doubt. Unfortunately, Barbie Girl was the buzz kill that ultimately ended the two-person dance party. Barbie Girl and the fact that Leighton, were she awake, would not have approved of the foregoing – a sobering realization for the new-ish parents of one.
I should say that we are not exactly “newish” parents. Rather, we are newish human parents, but seasoned dog parents. By "seasoned" I mean that at this point in the evening we are unphased by the fact that we have spent the last five minutes trying to decide where that smell is coming from and whether Luella (our four pound, five year-old Yorkshire Terrier) simply tooted or has poop-a-doops. “Poop-a-doops” basically means “cling-on”. Signs of poop-a-doops include 1) intermittent whiffs of poop – the location of which cannot immediately be determined; 2) tail tucked between legs, so much so that it can neither be seen nor extracted; and 3) shaking when asked "Do you have poop-a-doops?" Check. Check. Check. Because the initial threshold has been met, Ryan picks up Lue in one hand, turns her butt toward his nose and sniffs in the direction of her rear – this is part one of the unsavory poop-a-doops confirmation test. Part two involves trying to pry up her little tail to confirm what the other indicators are almost certainly telling us. After a minute or two of waving Lue around like a left over hoagie he found in the fridge (the mayonnaise on which may or may not have gone bad) Ryan deduced that we narrowly escaped a poop-a-doops situation. It was, in fact, just a toot. Ryan set Lue free and apologized profusely to her. She ignored his overtures and with unflinching ambivolence went to bed.
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