Happy Birthday, Shadow!

We are dog-sitting for our friend Jessica's little black lab this week while Jessica is on vacation. This evening, Ethan's been chasing her around the house, giving her big hugs around the neck and saying "Happy Birthday, Shadow!" each time. We are not sure why. We have been saying "I love (insert name)" and giving hugs the last few months, and I think maybe that's what he means. It is cute.

Someone had a BAD morning

Levi came into the kitchen before church yesterday and said, "Go look in the bathroom."
"Why? Is there a really big spider in there or something?" I asked
He laughed, "No, just go look."

I was sure it could be nothing good, whatever it was. I walked in cautiously and didn't see anything. It was a little bit stinky, so I thought maybe the plumbing had backed up. Then I heard a dripping sound coming from the toilet. "Great, it's backed up. Why in the world would Levi send me in here to look at this?" I thought.

I lifted the lid, and there was something black moving inside. Black and fuzzy, trying to climb up the inside of the toilet bowl. It was a squirrel.

They probably heard me screaming in Texas.

Levi thinks the little guy was running around on the roof and fell through a vent into the plumbing (I don't know if all houses have vents like this, but we have a septic system, so ours does). He must have swam through the pipes until he surfaced in a big, slippery porcelain prison. He was doing his best to get out, but between the water, the edge of the bowl, and the lid (which was, thankfully, down), he was stuck. So I opened the lid while Levi grabbed him with a towel. We took him outside and put him on the ground and watched him for a while, hoping he would get up and run away. He couldn't even walk. We figured he was pretty badly injured, so Levi quickly dispatched him, not wanting him to suffer.

What a morning. One minute you're going for a jog on the roof, the next minute, you're in watery prison. Finally, fresh air, and then a shovel ends your misery and you are in squirrel heaven.

Stories

Ethan is getting to be a little story-teller (very short stories, of course), and I am enjoying it. He has moved on from just answering a question to adding a little bit of his own information.

This morning, I left the living room with Ethan sitting on the couch with a book and Emmaline pulling up on the dog. I came running back to Emmaline lying on her back on the floor crying, the dog leaving the room as fast as he could, and Ethan standing a little way away, observing the scene. I am ashamed to say I assumed the worst. Most of Ethan's "loving violence" thus far has involved whacking Emma over the head with books or trying to sit on her shoulders and ride her. I was afraid we had reached a pushing-over stage.

"Ethan, did you push your sister over?"
"No! Doggy did it!"
"The Doggy knocked her over?"
"Wight!" (Right)

Not only do I think Ethan's not quite clever enough to invent a story like that on the spot, the dog did have a very guilty look on his face...