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Tuesday, February 28, 2012

Daddy's Love and Mean Puppies

My girls have the most wonderful Papa ever. Papa who paints smiley faces on their bellies, shows them how to throw rocks in the river, reads stories and sings songs and makes sure soap doesn't get in their eyes when he washes their hair. Papa whose chest is so comfortable to sleep on during the lazy-tired Saturday afternoon, and whose furry arms are just perfect for cheek rubbing, and who tells them it's ok to be mad at the whole entire world while he rocks them in his arms.

He really goes out of his way for them. One morning, Maya needed to eat a prune (btw, highly recommend for toddler poop issues) but it was too cold. So Papa stuck it in the microwave (which got a raised eyebrow from me). Then he determined it was too hot so he went outside (at 7 am!!) and started to wave it up and down to cool it off. Now that's love. And, I found out, he does the same thing with zaiki's pickles. Yes,yes, they like to have their pickles slightly warm. His objective, as explained to my, by that point, two raised eyebrows, is simple: to get them to eat the stuff that's good for them by whatever means necessary. I wish I had that kind of dad. :)

But don't feel bad for me - I get quiet a share of zaiki-love when they need comfort. We were walking in a park on a beautiful Monday afternoon to see a local waterfall so we could squeal and throw rocks in the water narrowly missing each other's noggins.

Nice weather = dog walkers. Lots of them. Zaiki like dogs, most dogs are nice, docile creatures who patiently wait while zaiki pet their fur. But no matter how nice the owner thinks their dog is, they are animals. With teeth. After saying hi to a particularly nice Peruvian Mastif, who could probably swallow them whole if he wanted to but licked their faces silly instead, we skippity-hopped down the path, and saw a man walking his little, fluffy and innocent-looking Corgi. The man just started  talking about how gentle his dog is, blah blah, when the "gentle" thing snarled and bit Sonya on the arm. Actually dropped her onto the ground. Thank God for the down jacket. It tore the jacket and got Sonya muddy. No blood, no bruises. And I got to carry screaming Sonya for about half a mile. She wanted Mama and the comfort that Mama provides. It was sweet. No more strange dog petting though.

And the week got finished with Sonya (the kid is a walking accident, I swear!) falling down face first onto a concrete patio from a slide. I'm not even counting bruises, nicks and cuts on their legs. Bring on the warm weather - can't wait to see what kinds of accidents we get to have this year.

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