TAZ

Bitty Boo is here visiting, with Taz. (short for Tazmanian Devil) That's the daughter she locked out of her house.

On purpose.

I know.

I'm calling DCFS.

Kidding, Taz totally deserved it!

Anyway, had the most hysterical time watching her interface with my brother's dog. Taz grabbed the teeny poodle, pulled an ear, poked an eye and fell on it thrice in ten seconds flat. Poodle curled an Elvis lip and growled a warning. Taz mistook it for an invitation~to do the same thing all over again.

Taz yanked and slapped and thrust a finger into poodle's face. Poodle nipped. Taz was stunned, jerking her teeny fingers away.

"What the H?" I could almost hear her wee little two year old pipes exclaim. Course, she can't articulate that clearly, but we have a connection.

She wasn't really sure how to respond, so she shoved another digit into Poodle's snout and chipmunked, "Bad dog!" Bad dog bit again.

"What the H? Seriously!" So she did it again, and again, and AGAIN, even going so far as to chase the pup down, grasping it's fur by the neck and pointing into it's mouth full of incisors, naming it inferior. Poodle obliged with the same repetition, intending to train this child in the way of really bad dogs.

And every time, she'd jerk away, wide eyed and aghast at what had transpired.

I laughed. I laughed, and laughed and laughed. And then I looked around while wiping my mirthy tears and realized that I was the adult, and apparently obligated to roadblock the rest of the experiment.

So I did.

Dammit.

(It's not really a swear word if you spell it wrong.)