Last night during dinner, Evin and I were talking about our old but still kicking dog. Kesiah, of course, wanted to be a part of the conversation...
Kesiah: Is Sammy a bad dog?
Mom: He's a good dog.
Kesiah: But he poops on the floor.
Dad: He's just old and sometimes poops on the floor.
Mom: Yes, he doesn't mean to do it. It just happens. He forgets sometimes.
Dad: He is still a good dog.
Kesiah: At least he says "Excuse me, I going to POOP on the FLOOR!"
Kesiah yelled the last part with much enthusiasm and with the most awesome-est facial expressions and hand gestures. We were having dinner on our screened in porch as couples were walking to the church at the end of our block to attend the "Gay Men's Choir". I can only imagine what they were thinking if the heard this and our roar of laughter after.
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First, I'm not a truck. Second, I'm one of those dads. The kind of dad that can never shut up about their kid. In my defense, I'm not usually bragging about how smart she is or how cute she is or how magically wonderful she is at making everyday a joy and that just by being around her makes one's soul glow and that this kind of elation can change all and usher an era peace never seen before. Although true, I'm usually describing something funny that she has done. Now I'm gonna blog about it.
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