So, the dog was depressed. I'm not kidding. She's done this once before. Friday night she didn't eat dinner, wouldn't come upstairs, wouldn't follow us around like she normally does, wouldn't jump up onto the bed, and walked around the house with her tail uncurled and her ears back. This is her little drama queen trick. When things get to be too intense with the baby and she feels like she's taking the backseat, she taps into this little act. So, we indulge her. Saturday she came with us while we ran errands and got special cheese treats and got to play with her sissy. What do you know? She's fine.
And, Joseph has a new trick too. He bit me. Yeah. I know that he doesn't have any teeth. No, he didn't bite my finger. It was all that I could do to keep from shrieking. Apparently this happens. Oh boy. When you shriek (because, let me tell you: it hurt!), you run the risk of kicking them into a "nursing strike." He'd get awfully hungry since he hates bottles if that happened. So, I summoned all of my self control and kept from screaming. This was a whole new kind of pain...not the "I'm figuring out this nursing thing and have chapped and cracked parts that aren't normally chapped and cracked." This was the "Oh my goodness...is it still attached?" kind of pain that leaves a nice blood blister. When will he eat food?