This might have gone in the TGiN blog, but it was so much like pure bragging, I just couldn't put it there. On the way back from Atlanta, I discovered that God truly is doing a work of grace in my children. Kes and Emmet were tired and cranky; it was getting close to nap time.
Here's how it would go in a normal car:
-children's whining reaches unbearable point
-driving parent almost kills them all from the distraction
-driving parent yells at non-driving parent to control the children
-non-driving parent yells at children to shut up
-children either quiet down for a while then crank it up again or immediately go into a fit
-driving parent almost wrecks the car a second time
-driving parent threatens non-driving parent to "pull over and take care of it himself"
-non-driving parent threatens children to "come back there and shut them up"
-children quiet down out of fear but resort to kicking backs of parents' chairs instead
-entire car pulls over at rest area for round of everyone yelling at everyone else
-they get back on the road, everyone finally quiet, because they are too fuming angry at each other to talk
-children finally fall asleep with anger headaches; parents apologize to each other (or not)
Here's how it went in our car:
-driving parent said "oops. i can see we're close to nap time. let's close our eyes and take a nap."
-two obedient toddlers immediately and cheerfully laid their heads to the side and closed their eyes
-driving parent sang a psalm, then commented that one toddler had done a very good job trying to take a nap but the other had forgotten after a while
-children nestle in and try again, falling asleep half-way through the next psalm
-non-driving parent gets a nap too
-when first child wakes up, she notices brother is still sleeping and remains very quiet in order not to disturb him (so quiet that non-driving parent is surprised to learn from driving parent that she has been awake for twenty minutes when driving parent offers her a snack)
-second child eventually wakes up cheerfully
Now, before you think that I take credit for those kids, know that my personality is much more along the lines of car #1. That's how I knew how it would work in that car. Thank God for His grace that has given me two great kids! I'm glad that mom's wishes that i would have children just like me didn't come true (yet).
Monday, June 26, 2006
Thursday, June 22, 2006
Family Update From Atlanta
Yesterday at GA, I had several good interactions with people, although I missed the parts that I had intended to sit through, because they were behind schedule.
We also had a wonderful time at the zoo. There are photos at http://hakimfamily.info/famalbum/. I attended a bit of the assembly in the afternoon, while the children napped, but when I got back for supper, Heather was feeling ill.
Instead of going out to eat, I got carryout from a Greek restaurant--spinach pie, big Greek salad, and Greek pita, with a couple pounds (not exaggerating) of grilled chicken, steak, and lamb; then, we did something we never do and bought an in-room movie. By movie time, Heather was already feeling better, but we were in for the night. We saw Curious George, and it was just fantastic--completely clean, didn't even model defiance to parents, etc.; it was also very, very, funny, so that Heather and I enjoyed it; and, Kes and especially Emmet just loved it. Praise the Lord.
Then, this morning, I was actually able to catch the parts of GA I had hoped to attend yesterday afternoon, in addition to catching up with several more men with whom I was hoping to maintain/improve contact.
When I returned from morning session, we went to the Georgia Aquarium. Heather and I have been to many nice aquariums (New Orleans, Chicago, Baltimore), but this one is the best. By far. After afternoon session, which is going right now while the family naps, we'll have supper then maybe attend worship this evening, as Kes and Emmet have asked several times during the trip if they can go to church.
We also had a wonderful time at the zoo. There are photos at http://hakimfamily.info/famalbum/. I attended a bit of the assembly in the afternoon, while the children napped, but when I got back for supper, Heather was feeling ill.
Instead of going out to eat, I got carryout from a Greek restaurant--spinach pie, big Greek salad, and Greek pita, with a couple pounds (not exaggerating) of grilled chicken, steak, and lamb; then, we did something we never do and bought an in-room movie. By movie time, Heather was already feeling better, but we were in for the night. We saw Curious George, and it was just fantastic--completely clean, didn't even model defiance to parents, etc.; it was also very, very, funny, so that Heather and I enjoyed it; and, Kes and especially Emmet just loved it. Praise the Lord.
Then, this morning, I was actually able to catch the parts of GA I had hoped to attend yesterday afternoon, in addition to catching up with several more men with whom I was hoping to maintain/improve contact.
When I returned from morning session, we went to the Georgia Aquarium. Heather and I have been to many nice aquariums (New Orleans, Chicago, Baltimore), but this one is the best. By far. After afternoon session, which is going right now while the family naps, we'll have supper then maybe attend worship this evening, as Kes and Emmet have asked several times during the trip if they can go to church.
Wednesday, June 21, 2006
Atlanta, Day 1
First full day in Atlanta. The view from the room, some time in the pool. We didn't take any photos at Wal-Mart or lunch. Actually, there are one or two on my cell phone, but the likelihood of my doing anything with those is slim.
Tuesday, June 20, 2006
Emmet's Lelloh Froggy
Kessedi does very well with her memory work and other aspects of performance in Sunday School, but the point of this article is not to brag about her. Well, ok. It is. But it's to brag about something even better than that.
Yesterday morning, as we were leaving for Atlanta, Kessedi was playing with two little rubber frogs, one purple and one yellow, that she had earned in Sunday school over the past few weeks. Emmet, looking wistfully at them, was whimpering his obvious desire to join in the fun.
There are few things that make a father's heart gladder than cheerful, immediate obedience, especially when it comes with cheerful unselfishness. Remember, Kessedi is a three year old. So when "Kessedi, could you let Emmet play with one of those?" was answered by the immediate, cheerful delivery of the lelloh (that's 'yellow' in kes&emmet speak) frog to Emmet, it was clear evidence of grace in the young girl.
I naturally described to Kessedi the godliness of both the action and the attitude, expressing my delight in both. Naturally, my fatherly heart swelled with pride and gratitude for the grace that had done this in her. But I was in for an even better treat yet.
When we piled into the car this morning, something caught Kes's eye, and she dove under the seat in front of her to get it. Just as I was about to reprimand her for scavengering something off of the floor, she announced, "Emmet's lelloh froggy!," and with delight she handed it to her obviously pleased two year old brother.
In case you didn't catch it, Kes hadn't just shared her prized toy. She had given it away. Cheerfully.
How thankful I was to God in that moment! The dear girl had misunderstood the request made of her the day before and still complied happily. What she hadn't missed was lesson after lesson about how to use our earthly possessions. while most parents try to teach their children to share, we have been trying to teach ours generosity, selflessness, and self-sacrifice. We don't just take turns or let others use what we don't really want for ourselves. We use what God has given us to look out for the needs and happiness of others more than ourselves.
So, when I had asked Kessedi if Emmet could play with one of her frogs, not myself considering that she ought to part with one of her favorite toys that she had gained in such a praiseworthy way, Kessedi did better than her dad the pastor. She knew the Biblical standard. And her heart was glad to follow it.
She's not a perfect child; this is not always the case. But as love covers a multitude of sins, you won't see any complaints about either child here. And even if it were not the case, how could I? The evidences of grace are so many and so rich that I would be ungrateufl and petulant to complain. So the next time I even have the inclination to do so, I'll just remember
"Emmet's lelloh froggy!"
Yesterday morning, as we were leaving for Atlanta, Kessedi was playing with two little rubber frogs, one purple and one yellow, that she had earned in Sunday school over the past few weeks. Emmet, looking wistfully at them, was whimpering his obvious desire to join in the fun.
There are few things that make a father's heart gladder than cheerful, immediate obedience, especially when it comes with cheerful unselfishness. Remember, Kessedi is a three year old. So when "Kessedi, could you let Emmet play with one of those?" was answered by the immediate, cheerful delivery of the lelloh (that's 'yellow' in kes&emmet speak) frog to Emmet, it was clear evidence of grace in the young girl.
I naturally described to Kessedi the godliness of both the action and the attitude, expressing my delight in both. Naturally, my fatherly heart swelled with pride and gratitude for the grace that had done this in her. But I was in for an even better treat yet.
When we piled into the car this morning, something caught Kes's eye, and she dove under the seat in front of her to get it. Just as I was about to reprimand her for scavengering something off of the floor, she announced, "Emmet's lelloh froggy!," and with delight she handed it to her obviously pleased two year old brother.
In case you didn't catch it, Kes hadn't just shared her prized toy. She had given it away. Cheerfully.
How thankful I was to God in that moment! The dear girl had misunderstood the request made of her the day before and still complied happily. What she hadn't missed was lesson after lesson about how to use our earthly possessions. while most parents try to teach their children to share, we have been trying to teach ours generosity, selflessness, and self-sacrifice. We don't just take turns or let others use what we don't really want for ourselves. We use what God has given us to look out for the needs and happiness of others more than ourselves.
So, when I had asked Kessedi if Emmet could play with one of her frogs, not myself considering that she ought to part with one of her favorite toys that she had gained in such a praiseworthy way, Kessedi did better than her dad the pastor. She knew the Biblical standard. And her heart was glad to follow it.
She's not a perfect child; this is not always the case. But as love covers a multitude of sins, you won't see any complaints about either child here. And even if it were not the case, how could I? The evidences of grace are so many and so rich that I would be ungrateufl and petulant to complain. So the next time I even have the inclination to do so, I'll just remember
"Emmet's lelloh froggy!"
PCA GA First Impressions (revised)
I didn't realize how BIG it was. It's about 10 times the size of the EPC GA; there were at least 5000 in the room for the opening worship service.
I use the term "worship" service loosely. It was one of those services where I struggle to worship and sometimes have to tell myself "it's ok; we've stopped worshipping, but we'll resume again in a minute." I hate that internal struggle, and it makes me worship with all my heart whenwe do get back to it. That's another good reason for worshipping only according to Scripture--that way, there is nothing to which the worshipper cannot say a hearty "Amen!" in his heart. For me, worship is so serious, that I cannot be fervent in it unless I agree with what we are praying/singing/reading/saying/hearing. But, if all of these are Scripture-saturated and have been very carefully weight theologically, there is no danger there.
Just from the opening meetings it's clear that the PCA is even broader than I thought.
I'm blessed with my kids. While my children were behaving themselves back in the hotel room, there were people who brought their children to the GA. When I got back to the room, I appreciated my own children more than when I had left. I won't pretend that it's due to anything but God's bountiful grace; I've made more than enough mistakes with them to deserve whatever trial they could become to me. But praise Him for His mercy--they are exactly the opposite!
I know more people in the PCA than I thought, and they're all good guys.
If I end up attending more of the meetings, I'll probably blog them as information on the Bethesda blog. However, I'm leaning toward attending more fellowship events than meetings, making new connections, and reinforcing old ones.
I use the term "worship" service loosely. It was one of those services where I struggle to worship and sometimes have to tell myself "it's ok; we've stopped worshipping, but we'll resume again in a minute." I hate that internal struggle, and it makes me worship with all my heart whenwe do get back to it. That's another good reason for worshipping only according to Scripture--that way, there is nothing to which the worshipper cannot say a hearty "Amen!" in his heart. For me, worship is so serious, that I cannot be fervent in it unless I agree with what we are praying/singing/reading/saying/hearing. But, if all of these are Scripture-saturated and have been very carefully weight theologically, there is no danger there.
Just from the opening meetings it's clear that the PCA is even broader than I thought.
I'm blessed with my kids. While my children were behaving themselves back in the hotel room, there were people who brought their children to the GA. When I got back to the room, I appreciated my own children more than when I had left. I won't pretend that it's due to anything but God's bountiful grace; I've made more than enough mistakes with them to deserve whatever trial they could become to me. But praise Him for His mercy--they are exactly the opposite!
I know more people in the PCA than I thought, and they're all good guys.
If I end up attending more of the meetings, I'll probably blog them as information on the Bethesda blog. However, I'm leaning toward attending more fellowship events than meetings, making new connections, and reinforcing old ones.
Disaster Strikes In Atlanta
Boy can I pack the car well. If that sentence doesn't make sense to you, go do some sewing or something. It's a man thing.
In fact, I packed the car so well, that a week's packing for my family took less than 2/3 of the trunk space in our Honda Civic (that's a very, very small car).
In fact, I packed it so well, that our garment bag took zero space. Not a single cubic inch. "How can that be?" you ask. It can be, because our garment bag is, as I type, laying flat on the bed, wide open, in our bedroom back in Mississippi. That's right; we forgot it.
Now, I have no doubt that there are going to be many "pastors" and "elders" attending General Assembly in something less formal even than the very nice button-down, short-sleeved shirts and khaki shorts that I brought for casual wear and working out; but, you'll notice that I put "pastors" and "elders" in quotation marks.
The General Assembly isn't a convention. It's not a conference. A lot of that goes on around it. But the General Assembly is a church court. It's a church court with Scriptural precedence (See Here), and it should be treated as such. This pastor, who isn't even officially an elder yet, and is attending only as an observer, not even as a commissioner, would be mortified to appear in such slovenly garb.
That's where Wal-Mart comes in. Thank God for Wal-Mart, my home away from home. A couple minutes at walmart.com, and I found 12 stores within half an hour from here. In fact, the nearest one turned out to be an extremely nice, brand new store. We made a couple hassel-free returns (of things that had been purchased in Jackson and brought with us just in case), then went shopping.
There were no sport coats at this Wal-Mart (there are at the one on Hwy 18 in south Jackson), but I quickly located an extremely nice pair of pants, two perfect dress shirts, and three elegant, richly constructed neckties. At a department store, the quality wouldn't have been any better, and the total cost would have been around $250. These cost $72 all together, or slightly more than the pants alone would have in the former case. I don't know if I'm happier with the savings or that I fit comfortably into a pair of size 38 pants. My closet at home is full of 42's, some of which were snug not that long ago. Praise the Lord.
So you read the title of this blog article and thought to yourself--"How narcissistic can this guy be? His forgetting some clothes at home is a 'disaster'?" No. It wasn't. With the way finding restaurants from the Entertainment book that were near that Wal-Mart turned out, and the grocery shopping that we were able to do there to replace meals, we are going to eat well and happily all week, and probably saved as much as the clothes cost. Those books pay for themselves so quickly!
Here's the disaster. There are Muslims. Everywhere. Families. Little children. It's breaking my heart. Every time I see one, I pray for him or her. I can't imagine the horror of going to sleep in death, and immediately waking up to find that Satan's deception in this life had cost me an eternity of weeping and gnashing of teeth. These poor people. Who will tell them about Jesus? Maybe I should have. Right there in Wal-Mart. And Target. And Johnny's New York Style Pizza. And Roly Poly Sandwiches. And on the street. And in the parking lot outside Shoney's last night. And at the hotel. You get the idea. I probably should have. God forgive me, but I can't help but wonder whether the church in Atlanta is fulfilling its responsibility to this poor, poor (spiritually, not financially) population.
Disaster has struck Atlanta
In fact, I packed the car so well, that a week's packing for my family took less than 2/3 of the trunk space in our Honda Civic (that's a very, very small car).
In fact, I packed it so well, that our garment bag took zero space. Not a single cubic inch. "How can that be?" you ask. It can be, because our garment bag is, as I type, laying flat on the bed, wide open, in our bedroom back in Mississippi. That's right; we forgot it.
Now, I have no doubt that there are going to be many "pastors" and "elders" attending General Assembly in something less formal even than the very nice button-down, short-sleeved shirts and khaki shorts that I brought for casual wear and working out; but, you'll notice that I put "pastors" and "elders" in quotation marks.
The General Assembly isn't a convention. It's not a conference. A lot of that goes on around it. But the General Assembly is a church court. It's a church court with Scriptural precedence (See Here), and it should be treated as such. This pastor, who isn't even officially an elder yet, and is attending only as an observer, not even as a commissioner, would be mortified to appear in such slovenly garb.
That's where Wal-Mart comes in. Thank God for Wal-Mart, my home away from home. A couple minutes at walmart.com, and I found 12 stores within half an hour from here. In fact, the nearest one turned out to be an extremely nice, brand new store. We made a couple hassel-free returns (of things that had been purchased in Jackson and brought with us just in case), then went shopping.
There were no sport coats at this Wal-Mart (there are at the one on Hwy 18 in south Jackson), but I quickly located an extremely nice pair of pants, two perfect dress shirts, and three elegant, richly constructed neckties. At a department store, the quality wouldn't have been any better, and the total cost would have been around $250. These cost $72 all together, or slightly more than the pants alone would have in the former case. I don't know if I'm happier with the savings or that I fit comfortably into a pair of size 38 pants. My closet at home is full of 42's, some of which were snug not that long ago. Praise the Lord.
So you read the title of this blog article and thought to yourself--"How narcissistic can this guy be? His forgetting some clothes at home is a 'disaster'?" No. It wasn't. With the way finding restaurants from the Entertainment book that were near that Wal-Mart turned out, and the grocery shopping that we were able to do there to replace meals, we are going to eat well and happily all week, and probably saved as much as the clothes cost. Those books pay for themselves so quickly!
Here's the disaster. There are Muslims. Everywhere. Families. Little children. It's breaking my heart. Every time I see one, I pray for him or her. I can't imagine the horror of going to sleep in death, and immediately waking up to find that Satan's deception in this life had cost me an eternity of weeping and gnashing of teeth. These poor people. Who will tell them about Jesus? Maybe I should have. Right there in Wal-Mart. And Target. And Johnny's New York Style Pizza. And Roly Poly Sandwiches. And on the street. And in the parking lot outside Shoney's last night. And at the hotel. You get the idea. I probably should have. God forgive me, but I can't help but wonder whether the church in Atlanta is fulfilling its responsibility to this poor, poor (spiritually, not financially) population.
Disaster has struck Atlanta
Major Photo Update (20 June 2006)
I just completed a major update to the family photo album at http://hakimfamily.info
Nothing from the trip yet, though.
Nothing from the trip yet, though.
Wednesday, June 14, 2006
Kessedi's Ouch Bites
This is a crosspost from the family blog, but I thought it fit here as well. Sadly, there are a half dozen or so posts that should have gone here in the past couple months, but just never made it. Although fully written in my mind, they are now lost for all time... unless I find the time and energy to do them again. Anyway, enjoy...
Kes was watching me work the garden this afternoon when all of a sudden she flew to the house screaming. I thought she had been stung by a wasp. I wish she was.
When I caught up with her, the culprits were still in a swarm on her right leg. She had been standing in a fire ant colony while watching me. I brushed as many off as I could then threw her over my shoulder and made like an ambulance into our breakfast nook--poor, terrified Emmet, who had started screaming when Kessedi did, following closely. It is with not a little fatherly pride that I note that he seemed to cover the space in half the time in which a normal 2 year old boy is able.
A pillow retrieved with one arm and placed on the breakfast table, the other arm quickly laid the girl down, her head resting comfortably, and I began to administer treatment. 8 hours prior, we had scrambled eggs on this surface; now, it was my brave daughter's operating room.
"Brave" is actually an understatement. No words of reassurance from me could comfort her brother; normally a sensitive boy, his empathy for his sister now shot him through with wave after wave of sympathetic pain. But she, who by all means should have been sobbing, looked up at me as I killed the remaining stragglers and began applying the first layer of medicine (hydrocortisone), and simply asked, "Is daddy fixing the ant bites?" Talk about faith like a child.
I assured her that I would and that we would ask the One who heals all of our infirmities to do so with these. A quick, simply worded prayer, and then Kes turned to her little brother, and from her 17 month advantage in experience and wisdom said, "It's o.k., Emmet." It was like someone flipped a switch in the boy. He became almost cheerful and started asking, "Kessedi, ouch bites? Kessedi, ouch bites?"
He's a practical boy. A few weeks ago, when he had some of his own, he decided that they were "ouch" bites, not "ant" bites. It wasn't that he heard it incorrectly. It was that he determined "ouch" to be more central to the character of the wound, and therefore more appropriate to the name. Who am I to argue? His I.Q. is definitely higher than my own.
The next three layers applied (benadryl, triclosan, and benzocaine), we promptly went for a swim. After a shower, the treatment was repeated on the couch, and Kes's favorite dressing applied: a pair of daddy's socks, inside out so that the smooth side is in. They go up to her knees, but they keep her from scratching, and they breathe wonderfully because of the disparity in size.
Please pray for Kessedi's ouch bites.
Kessedi's Ouch Bites
Kes was watching me work the garden this afternoon when all of a sudden she flew to the house screaming. I thought she had been stung by a wasp. I wish she was.
When I caught up with her, the culprits were still in a swarm on her right leg. She had been standing in a fire ant colony while watching me. I brushed as many off as I could then threw her over my shoulder and made like an ambulance into our breakfast nook--poor, terrified Emmet, who had started screaming when Kessedi did, following closely. It is with not a little fatherly pride that I note that he seemed to cover the space in half the time in which a normal 2 year old boy is able.
A pillow retrieved with one arm and placed on the breakfast table, the other arm quickly laid the girl down, her head resting comfortably, and I began to administer treatment. 8 hours prior, we had scrambled eggs on this surface; now, it was my brave daughter's operating room.
"Brave" is actually an understatement. No words of reassurance from me could comfort her brother; normally a sensitive boy, his empathy for his sister now shot him through with wave after wave of sympathetic pain. But she, who by all means should have been sobbing, looked up at me as I killed the remaining stragglers and began applying the first layer of medicine (hydrocortisone), and simply asked, "Is daddy fixing the ant bites?" Talk about faith like a child.
I assured her that I would and that we would ask the One who heals all of our infirmities to do so with these. A quick, simply worded prayer, and then Kes turned to her little brother, and from her 17 month advantage in experience and wisdom said, "It's o.k., Emmet." It was like someone flipped a switch in the boy. He became almost cheerful and started asking, "Kessedi, ouch bites? Kessedi, ouch bites?"
He's a practical boy. A few weeks ago, when he had some of his own, he decided that they were "ouch" bites, not "ant" bites. It wasn't that he heard it incorrectly. It was that he determined "ouch" to be more central to the character of the wound, and therefore more appropriate to the name. Who am I to argue? His I.Q. is definitely higher than my own.
The next three layers applied (benadryl, triclosan, and benzocaine), we promptly went for a swim. After a shower, the treatment was repeated on the couch, and Kes's favorite dressing applied: a pair of daddy's socks, inside out so that the smooth side is in. They go up to her knees, but they keep her from scratching, and they breathe wonderfully because of the disparity in size.
Please pray for Kessedi's ouch bites.
When I caught up with her, the culprits were still in a swarm on her right leg. She had been standing in a fire ant colony while watching me. I brushed as many off as I could then threw her over my shoulder and made like an ambulance into our breakfast nook--poor, terrified Emmet, who had started screaming when Kessedi did, following closely. It is with not a little fatherly pride that I note that he seemed to cover the space in half the time in which a normal 2 year old boy is able.
A pillow retrieved with one arm and placed on the breakfast table, the other arm quickly laid the girl down, her head resting comfortably, and I began to administer treatment. 8 hours prior, we had scrambled eggs on this surface; now, it was my brave daughter's operating room.
"Brave" is actually an understatement. No words of reassurance from me could comfort her brother; normally a sensitive boy, his empathy for his sister now shot him through with wave after wave of sympathetic pain. But she, who by all means should have been sobbing, looked up at me as I killed the remaining stragglers and began applying the first layer of medicine (hydrocortisone), and simply asked, "Is daddy fixing the ant bites?" Talk about faith like a child.
I assured her that I would and that we would ask the One who heals all of our infirmities to do so with these. A quick, simply worded prayer, and then Kes turned to her little brother, and from her 17 month advantage in experience and wisdom said, "It's o.k., Emmet." It was like someone flipped a switch in the boy. He became almost cheerful and started asking, "Kessedi, ouch bites? Kessedi, ouch bites?"
He's a practical boy. A few weeks ago, when he had some of his own, he decided that they were "ouch" bites, not "ant" bites. It wasn't that he heard it incorrectly. It was that he determined "ouch" to be more central to the character of the wound, and therefore more appropriate to the name. Who am I to argue? His I.Q. is definitely higher than my own.
The next three layers applied (benadryl, triclosan, and benzocaine), we promptly went for a swim. After a shower, the treatment was repeated on the couch, and Kes's favorite dressing applied: a pair of daddy's socks, inside out so that the smooth side is in. They go up to her knees, but they keep her from scratching, and they breathe wonderfully because of the disparity in size.
Please pray for Kessedi's ouch bites.
Tuesday, June 13, 2006
A Perfect Day
Well, there aren't really any on this side of glory, but yesterday came pretty close. Just a quick post here to let friends and family know that we are basking with joy in the mercy of God's grace. Praise the Lord!
Monday, June 12, 2006
Crazy Canine
Sidney was in our bedroom at 5 after 3 this morning, doing the potty dance. If you've ever owned a dog, or a toddler for that matter, you know the potty dance. Well, Sidney was doing it with enthusiasm.
Gladly, I was already up and getting ready to head to the office, so I took her out on the leash a few minutes later. Result? She sniffed for a few seconds in her potty spot. If you've ever owned a dog, or perhaps (though I feel sorry for you if this applies in this case) a toddler, you know the potty spot.
Well, she sniffed it, then took off again back to the house, satisfied. No potty. No #1. No #2. No squatting of any kind. I could only think how glad I was that this wasn't the only reason that I was out of bed at 3 in the morning. If it had been, Sidney wouldn't just be a crazy canine. She might be a canine corpse.
Gladly, I was already up and getting ready to head to the office, so I took her out on the leash a few minutes later. Result? She sniffed for a few seconds in her potty spot. If you've ever owned a dog, or perhaps (though I feel sorry for you if this applies in this case) a toddler, you know the potty spot.
Well, she sniffed it, then took off again back to the house, satisfied. No potty. No #1. No #2. No squatting of any kind. I could only think how glad I was that this wasn't the only reason that I was out of bed at 3 in the morning. If it had been, Sidney wouldn't just be a crazy canine. She might be a canine corpse.
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