Magical Dog, Drunk Jayme

As many of you know, we welcomed a sweet little 4 pound dog into our family.  The boys named him Buckwheat, or Buck for short. Buck has added a lot of joy to our family.  (I feel like if I say it enough, Cory will start to believe it.)  Well, Joy, and poop, and pee, and chewed up shoes.  But despite potty training, he has been a great addition to our family. 

Here are the boys with Buck.

And for the most part, the boys have been wonderful with him.  Except for a few occasions when Ryder has sneakily shown Buck who is boss. Anyone who knows Ryder, knows that he doesn’t like anything that takes away from him being the star of the show. For real, he hates babies with a passion because they tend to get more attention than him (and this is verbatim out of Ryder’s mouth, “I hate stupid babies; they are useless.”  I mean, he is not necessarily wrong.). 

My parents, the boys and I were at the park the first week we got Buck. I was chatting with my parents and said, “I’m proud of Ryder.  He is really being nice to Buck.”  And before I could say anything else, we see Buck flying down the slide.  Ryder was sure that Buck needed some assistance going down the slide.

The boys and I rode our bikes to school one day.  I had Ryder in a bike cart attached to the back of my bike.  He gets to be zipped inside a nice bug repellent screen while I peddle my heart out trying to keep up with Chase.  For our ride, I placed Buck in the back with Ryder.  I gave Buck a bone to keep him busy, buckled in Ryder and zipped the screen shut.  About halfway to Chase’s school I hear Ryder’s scowling voice say, “Buck you are disgusting, you got your bone all over my coat.”  A minute later I see Buck trotting alongside my bike.  I stopped quickly, picked up the dog and asked Ryder if he unzipped the screen and pushed Buck out of the cart.  Ryder just looked at me with a smile on his face and stated, “It was magic,” while shrugging his pointy little shoulders.  

In Ryder’s defense, I would be a tad bit annoyed of the dog too if the dog kept biting onto the butt of my pants and pulling my pants down to my ankles, causing me to trip at least twice a day.  (But since I’m not Ryder, it is HILARIOUS and I do absolutely nothing to correct the situation).

On a completely unrelated note, our family attended my cousin’s very beautiful wedding this past weekend.  When my sister and I get around our cousins we all tend to go, for a lack of better words, “Balls to the walls” with shots. You know, for one evening pretend to be a 21 year old college student without children and a mountain of debt and responsibilities. And plus, I mean, who can turn down top shelf tequila at an open bar? (For the record- not me.) Usually, my cousins and I greet each other by saying things similar to, “Are you ready for a shot?” or “I brought the good tequila.” 

My handsome boys at the wedding.

So there we were, standing in a circle in front of the open bar doing shots, when Chase walks by and casually says to me, “Hey Drunk Jayme,” while he’s sucking on a stick of rock candy from the candy bar.  All I could think to respond was, “First of all- you can call me Mom, not Jayme.  And second of all, I am not that drunk yet.”  Then afterwards I realized I could have gone another way with the situation and not done a butt-load of shots, but that isn’t really my style.

(Oh calm down- don’t call Child Protective Services- my kids were safe and had a Dad there who is completely capable to caring for them. Well, not their Dad (because he also likes to go "balls to the walls" but my Dad was there.)