It's the way things happen around here that really gets to me.

Here I am sitting in my living room, contemplating the long evening in front of me. I watch my son struggling across the floor, three tentative crawls, then flop onto his belly. Then he pauses, and may or may not push himself up into a sitting position (new trick, just learned this weekend) and think about persevering to the object of his attention. He keeps going on. He is intent upon his goal. What really stinks about this whole situation is that once he finally gets there, and the doggy treat, doggy food, doggy pad or the dog itself is in his grasp, I very meanly take it away from him.
I keep explaining the logic of this to my boy. "See Gabriel, Murphy eats his own poop, and I don't want you putting his things in your mouth. Because they will have some leftover dooky on them." If my son survives his babyhood without e-coli, he is going to have some great antibodies in his system.
And then I realize that Murphy is the only model around this house his own size. So why wouldn't my 7 month old son pick up the same habits? They both chew everything, get around on all fours, and regularly seek out computer wires to gnaw on. Oh, and they both speech foreign languages. They're both adorable. Murphy in a: shaggy haired, impishly cute, tiny puppy forever sort of way. Gabriel in a: blonde haired, blue eyed, chubby extremities, expressive face, big-OH smile, baby way.
Husband is eating Chinese food. The baby is trying to eat the dog, the dog is watching husband eat Chinese. And here I sit with the laptop in my life, trying to immortalize this moment.