Wednesday, November 17, 2010

Mom Looks Worried


Dear Diary,

1:00 AM -  I'm sick as a dog.  Literally.  Barfed on one, two three throw rugs.

1:15 AM -  Mom looks worried.  She says she wishes she wouldn't have given me the new flea treatment that morning.  She thinks I'm having an allergic reaction.  

1:30 AM -  I'm in the bathtub.  Mom's sudsing me up with Oatmeal Shampoo, trying to wash away all the poison.  I sit looking straight ahead.  

2:00 AM -  It's the blow dryer.  I hate that thing.  It makes such noise, and it scares me when it blows all that warm air on me.

2:30 AM -  I'm still not dry.  Wish that stupid blow dryer would break.

2:45 AM -  Almost dry.  I'm shivering.  Mom wraps me in her warm soft robe and I fall asleep in Dad's chair.




8:00 AM - I'm too tired to get up.  Mom thinks there's something terribly wrong.

8:01 AM - Dad tests me, 'There's Max outside!" I jump from the chair and run to the window.  

I must be all better.

Gracie.



Fall Camp stuff

It's that time of year where we put away the sun block and break open the stash of pumpkin spice candles.   Fall is extra special...