WHO'S YOUR DADDY?
So, Chrissy and I are downstairs cleaning the cellar. We are laughing hysterically, as always, about stupid shit. She had just asked me how long I had this random, unopened cleaning product and I said I didn't know but Dave was supposed to clean the siding with it and we never got around to it. She was laughing saying I had it since 1908 and told me to throw it out.
All of a sudden - ring ring ring - well, actually, it was some weird ring tone she didn't know.
The call never came through and went right to voice mail so it was the notification for a message. She plays it on speakerphone and it's DCD asking about family night dinner.
Speak of the devil.
The dog went crazy. I hardly think she knew the voice. I guess she just thought some one else was in the room. She was looking around and then started scratching at her bag where she put her phone. She wouldn't get away from it.
Why did you put my daddy in your purse?
She kept scratching and scratching at her purse so I had no other choice but to go in to my best rendition of Papa, can you hear me?
Even through all the laugh breaks we managed to make some (SOME) progress down there. The Dad was impressed. We knew he wouldn't yell if we said it was her idea to move things around. He liked everything and said she was his champion.