sethanddoodles.JPGWatch out my love,” Seth whispers softly as he maneuvers past, carrying a large cardboard box.

 Touched by his kind words I reply, “Oh, that’s a very sweet way to…”

 ”I wasn’t talking to YOU,” he interrupts, visibly irritated. “I was talking to ABBEY.”

 I make a beeline to the computer to document this moment. (Because my first thought of course is, “I am SO blogging about this.”) As I do so, this five-year-old brings his sleeping bag into my office. Not wanting to miss out on any action, Abbeydog follows. Seth drops the sleeping bag down then smooths it out. The dog plops down next to him.

“Sit here my love,” he says.

I stifle a giggle. 

Clearly he’s forgotten exactly WHO is in charge of the candy buying and cookie-making at our house.

Hopefully Abbeydog lapped up this kindness because when tomorrow morning beckons, she’ll find the boy playing with his light saber and bored. And she will get poked and antagonized — just like any other day.