While concentrating very hard on the challenge of generating a drinkable pot of coffee, I heard the voice of 2 year old geekygirl saying
"mummy, I have hair dog?"
I did a double take. Did my sweet child just ask me for a morning cocktail? I know that it is 'dance party' day at daycare on Fridays, but surely the toddlers are not sneaking in booze in their lunchboxes.
Turning to look at geekygirl, I saw her holding up a long black hair that she had discovered in her oatmeal. I explained to geekygirl that yes, you do indeed have hair dog. I mean dog hair. I explain that geekyhound's hair gets everywhere, but that hair in our oatmeal is a small price to pay for the joy and love that a dog can bring to a family.
"mummy, you have hair dog?", geekygirl responded.
I looked at the clock: 7.15 am. It was tempting, but perhaps a little too early to start drinking.
I realized though, as I contemplated the overwhelming list of things to do that weekend, that hair dog in the breakfast is my metaphor for what happens when I try to do it all. I can nurse an infant, feed a toddler and play fetch with an overexcited, underexcerised dog all before my first cup of coffee of the day, so I am bound to end up with hair dog in the food.
And you know what? I think that is OK.
what's hairdog? The first post