Terror

This morning when I stumbled out of bed at (literally) before dawn, I was greeted by the happy wiggly body of Frances the Terrible prancing her way through the living room. You could practically see her hum "TRA LA LA" as she bounced her way across the floor. Sam was fast asleep on the couch after crashing out watching TV and I immediately pounced, shaking him:

Me: SAM! SAM!

Sam: wha? snorfle snuffle

Me: Oh My God, Please tell me you picked up Frances from the puppy pen and fell asleep with her in your arms.

Sam: No (snurrfle), I don't think so.

Me: OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD

Sam: What is it?

Me: SAM (shaking him really hard now), DID YOU PICK UP FRANCES FROM THE PUPPY PEN AND LEAVE HER OUT??

Sam: No, I don't think so. (goes back to sleep)

Me (rocking on the couch, moaning): Are you sure??

Sam: Wha? You have to know this now?

Me: yes, NOW.

Sam: Why?

Me: Because if the 6 week old puppy has figured out how to get out of the pen BY HERSELF, our life as we know it is OVER.

Sam (waking up): oh shit, good point.


The good news is: she hasn't been able to repeat it yet. The bad news is: it's still early. Pray for us.