Linking up with Five Minute Friday today.

The theme?

I blame it all on the dog.

We were walking along, all flippy tailed and in step with Mercy Me’s “Shake.” I’m whistling. It’s a sunny, bright afternoon. And then, the dog really messed it all up.

Pun. Intended.

He went for the double poop.

Have you ever tried to talk a dog out of pooping? It doesn’t work. And also, this makes my dog, I guess, feel all nervous which seems to have a really gut wrenching (did it again) effect on his lower intestine.

“ONE bag, dog. I brought ONE bag. This is a double poop. This is just unacceptable.”

We were late to pickup my boys from school because my dog is a pooping machine.

I ran (with very penitent dog) to the school and I spotted him, Red. Standing by his teacher. I knew the look. He had worry, buried behind his eyes, and was trying to look brave, but the look was solidly there.

This all happened over seven months ago, and I just can’t forget that face. He spotted me, scooting in with Mr. Dumpsalot, and his eyes widened into a smile. And he ran to me.

“MOM MOM Mom motherrr mom MOMMMM.” He runs into my stomach. Dog promptly wraps entire length of leash around both our legs. I hug him tight.

Blonde catches up with us, and since he is in the first grade now, he never worried. He is a pro. He is old school, school. He doesn’t worry if mom is late because he knows she will always be there.

Red was new at this, and I could tell it was bugging him. And then, he fit his hand into mine and we started home.

“I am so sorry I was late, honey. Hosmer had some … issues.”

“Yep.”

“We had to basically fence off and clean up a two block radius. The dog can GO, I tell you.”

“Yep. I know that’s true.”

“I mean, it was epic. I needed a Hazmat suit. It was- Oh honey? You’re crying.”

His little mouth had slowly turned down, as if both ends of his smile were pulled down with strings.  His eyes were on his shoes and large, warm tears splashed on my knees as I crouched down in front of him.

“I waited and waited! Everyone else left. They all left. And I thought,” big shuddering breath, “I thought you FORGOTTED ME!”

I hugged him tight. And then, I said,

“Honey. I can’t forget about you. That would be… that would be like… how could I forget you? It would be like if my heart was outside my body – I couldn’t forget about that…”

This is one of those times that going for a deep, and rather visually icky, metaphor here was a mistake. Big mistake. Huge.

“YOUR HEART IS OUTSIDE YOUR BODY? WHYYYYY MOMMMMMM???”

Sobbing.

Now, he was tired. It was the beginning of the year; he was all new to this, but my goodness, he was really sad and upset and I felt? Well,

I kinda felt like my heart was outside of my body.

Which it is. Metaphor aside. My sweet boys go into that school and I sometimes watch them walk into those doors and think, “You are my heart.”

 

For future reference:

1. I always bring TWO bags. Sometimes THREE.
2. Hugs and popsicles help for a snack after crying.