Laundry. Bathe self. Bathe baby. Watch husband cram food down dogs to encourage pooping. Watch hubby follow dogs around yard waiting for poop to happpen. Chuckle when all three come back frustrated.
Watch younger pup catch dust. Complete with snapping shark like jaws and everything. Be amazed at how long he can do this without realizing that it's just the sun illuminating the tiny particles. Be even more amazed that he never does come to said realization.
Watch baby stand at gate in living room and throw toys out of gate. Watch her go get more toys and repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Fold laundry on couch to keep eye on baby. Watch toy pile move from living room to hallway via one baby learning the laws of physics. Then watch baby unfold laundry just folded on couch. Salvage what is left of folded laundry.
Giggle when pups need to go out again. Call hubby. Watch hubby chase dogs around waiting to catch fresh poop. (We have a vet appt today, and this is *his* job.) Hear mysterious quiet in living room. Find baby wearing daddy's boxers on head. Giggle at absurd sight, and see baby clap hands in delight.
Think about getting dressed in something other than sweats. Think about preparing something for lunch/dinner/other meals.
Hear door open, see boogies prance into the house. Do not see hubby. Assume is taking care of business. Hear hubby come in and express worry that the neighbor working on his roof may have seen hubby picking up poo in baggie and think hubby is crazy. Smile and nod.
Baby now trying boxers on as scarves while still wearing original pair on head.
Hubby feeds dogs more food. Apparently only one 'got busy'. Think to self that pups must love vet days. If only to torture daddy. I certainly love them. I take not-so-secret delight in watching hubby follow boogies around with baggies in hand. Somehow it makes up for everything else. :)
Watch baby fall into toy basket. Must tend to bump on head. Morning interruptus.