Oh yeah

and we found out today we’re getting dogs. One – a black female labradoodle (who will be called Coco – is Oscar’s dog) will be here at the end of this month. The other – a golden male labradoodle (who will be called Max and will apparently be Felix’s dog, but I know he is a child of my own and that will only be until the novelty wears off) will be here in mid-June.

The boys and Chef, but particularly Chef are beside themselves.

Me? Not so much.

And I know you all know why.

Because despite all promises by Chef to the contrary, I will be the one who:
– ends up getting up early with them
– arranging all the puppy-school training stuff
– taking them and the boys to the puppy training boot camp hell zone
– taking them to the Vet
– feeding them
– walking them
– picking up their shit (as if wiping three other arses than my own was not already enough)
– dealing with Oscar dealing with puppy jumping issues
– dealing with the whole “Puss, meet two dogs, yes the species that mauled you when you were about four months old, but no, these ones are nice. Please be friends.” disaster .
– being the only truly vigilant one that I don’t find Jasper in the jaws of one of them. And really, it’s been kinda nice not having to be *that* vigilant with the freakishly mobile now-climbing-stairs and almost-cruising-furniture 6 month old.

When we informed the boys tonight, Oscar drew a sketch – on the floor in the lounge room – with his finger – in the vein of an intrepid explorer drawing a path in the dirt – of just where Coco would be sleeping…in his room.

That’s right, oh what fresh hell is this gonna be.