The other night we were sitting on the couch and I looked over at Clint and told him, “You know, there is really something that has come between us”
It’s very obvious in the quiet of the evening when we wanting to sit close on the couch together and re-connect after a busy day of kids and tears and spilled milk and dirty floors. But yet, there is something clearly that has snuck up and won’t let that happen.
It happens at other times as well. In the late afternoons when the boys are running around and playing and using up all that boyish energy and I just want to sit back and have Clint give me a back rub, there seems to be something in the way.
At night, in bed, when I want to reach my foot over to the other side and just rub his foot, it just can’t happen.
Looking back, I try to pin point when it started and how it grew to be so obvious.
It started 7 years ago. And she started small. But somewhere along the line she grew and then decided that her spot in life was to be right in-between us.
Her name is Daisy. She’s part cocker spaniel and part human. She thinks she’s more human then cocker spaniel and we’re pretty sure she’s all cocker spaniel (but don’t tell her).
Daisy was one of the first couple words that both boys learned to say (for Leighton it was his first, for Caedmon, his second). She is great with people and kids. Not so much other dogs. I think that thinking that she is human part comes in.
And so because it’s her, I’m ok with there being something between us.