Mariana got a big stuffed dog for her birthday from Grandma and Grandpa. She loves it by the way. She also loves the stick from the xylophone that Aunt JoAnn bought her. We call it the "scepter". She wanders back and forth wielding her scepter and whacking anything and everything in her path. How does this tupperware sound when I bang on it? How about this table, or the wall, or Daddy's face? In that same spirit her jackass father thought he would have fun too, using the scepter to whack the little plastic eyeballs on her stuffed doggie. A few hearty whacks and pop, one of them breaks off. Go figure huh?
Well, it's a black eyeball on black fur, hopefully Hilary won't notice. 2 weeks later I get a distressed phone message- "Joe, the eyeball is missing from the dog! I think she ate it! Shit, what are we going to do now?! I'm calling the Doctor, maybe she needs an xray... just call me". Whoops, sorry! I had to call her and fess up to my Michael Vick-like treatment of the dog. No need for xrays or doctor trauma, just my stupidity, so no worries.
Mariana hates having her face and hands cleaned like most kids I imagine. Here is a video of me making a game out of it. I soak the towel so it splashes all over the place. I think she enjoys it because it still feels like making a mess which is still priority #1.
