Babysitting has got to be good practice for something

Usually I'm not very timely with my posts but just in case you had your hand on the trigger waiting to call DCF, babysitting was rather successful in that it was totally uneventful. Kim's baby is perhaps the most laid back a child can be without the aid of say, anesthesia. He let everyone hold him and didn't seem in the slightest bit concerned that we were all strangers that smelled different than his momma and made weird faces that him and repeatedly tried to eat his tiny feet.

Kim finally saw the house, and if she were slightly closer and didn't have, oh ya know, a small infant to take care of I imagine she'd love helping out painting, decorating and generally taking advantage of my shiny new appliances. Obviously I'd love help. I can't do all this myself, after all, but she's got different priorities than the rest of us do because of the baby and I'm totally understanding that he's the number one on her list. In fact, if he wasn't her number one priority I'd be a little worried. But she's taken to motherhood like a fish to water, which she admits is even a surprise to her.

Number one on my list is a varying thing, but right now it tends to be associated with the house. Curtains. Cabinetry for the kitchen. Bathrooms that look like proper bathrooms with actual tiled floors. Painting a TON of stuff. Guest room furniture and bedding. The list just keeps on expanding each day.

Naturally the next thing anyone asks about is baby. I know. Everyone sees us in this big giant house and then wonders when we'll fill it with the pitter patter of tiny feet. Well, maybe sooner rather than later but not in the way you'd first anticipate.

We're in the market for a puppy.

And my friend Stephanie bellows "nooooooooo don't do it!" from where ever she is right now, but I think it'd be nice to have a pet. I've never really had a proper pet and having a puppy kind of forces you to get your rear outside. And I know short walks don't seem like a lot but they are when you're a sedentary soul like myself. It'll be good to be forced to get OUT.

Now the problem of course is that we don't entirely agree on puppy breed. Like it could POSSIBLY be that easy. Trevor wants a Labrador Retriever only. His list of approved dogs is pretty short. Just the one because he loved his previous pet a great deal and wants another. But I'm more open to the idea of a medium to small dog of mysterious mutt-like breed because while I love love loved Trevor's old dog it was a rather big task to transport a full sized lab around with us in our tiny little cars. And bigger dogs, although very very sweet natured, tend to create bigger bills because they need bigger everything. Bigger crate, more food, large vet bills...you name it. And that's a big responsibility. We have enough bills as it stands without adding in a whole other (albeit fuzzier) mouth to feed. Trevor was mightily tempted to buy a puppy a few weeks ago when we were eying them in Manchester. I was pretty fond of the little red dachshund she puppy and Trevor was in love with the little red boy lab puppy.

You're probably wondering why we don't start smaller, but we actually do have a pet. We have a fish. A stray fish nonetheless. And YES you can have a stray fish. You can have one when the previous tenants in the unit you were living in left their fish behind in a fruit bowl and clearly had no intention whatsoever of coming back from him. It's not like he was old, or had serious medical issues, or was a huge burden to have around. He's a fish. You don't even have to take him on walks or pet him or really do anything.

And yes he's still alive. And he's rather funny. I think he's so old he doesn't have a ton of vigor still left in him so he just floats around a lot and makes Trevor think he's dead but then magically reanimates. And attacks your finger. It's like his version of playing catch. Clearly this is fantastic practice for a puppy right?

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