I'm potty training my three year old.
Are there other things going on in the house? Let's talk about that instead.
Bruce is still riding his bike to work. He is still supervising, to his chagrin. He aspires to someday live in the forest as a professional hermit. We're in negotiations over that one. He escapes by fishing; recently, he caught what is known in the angler world as a "mess" of blue gill. Then he brought them home, beheaded them, draw and quartered them, and then skinned them. No one, not even he, feels any compulsion to actually eat them. The older kids hid in the basement from the gore, while the younger kids looked on and gave loud, dramatic commentary. Sara later loaded the dishwasher with salad tongs, not wanting to touch anything that had been in the sink when the fish were scaled.
That night we had nice, fresh, juicy pasta with brats for dinner. The fish are still in our freezer.
The kids are all back in school and seem to be doing swell. Sara is in orchestra and choir. Brian is building a model rocket in scouts. They both love staying up late reading. Sammy is learning how to spell his name "Sam" rather than "Samm". Arthur is wearing underwear and peeing all over the house. I'm sure he does other things too, but the one is crowding out all the rest.
How's Buck doing? Really well. He seems to like us now. He's a bit of a fraidy cat. He was set upon by a couple of shih tzus during our walk the other day, wriggled out of his collar and took off for home. I tell him he needs to be more assertive. Perhaps there is a toastmasters for dogs.
Follow up on the letter to Lifetouch:
They never got back to me. I still have the pictures. End of story.
