french kissing in the usa

After some indecision regarding how to kick off this blog, I decided to start with a pretty gross little matter plaguing my family these days. It's not like headlice or the gout or anything (no offense to any present sufferers). It is however, menacingly troublesome. I warned you.

So our baby Cornflake - the etiology of this nickname, by the way, is not as interesting as you might imagine - anyway, Cornflake has this little issue with drooling. And, when I say "little", I really mean perhaps our governor could alleviate this whole drought problem plaguing our state if he ever discovered the amount of liquid our nine month old little squirt produces in a day. This drool situation, though, is not the gross little matter. The gross little matter involves little Cornflake's seven pound wee lil dachsund friend, Timmy. You see, Timmy has always had a small infatuation with Cornflake's drool, and wee lil Timmy likes to use that wee lil tongue of his on whatever crosses his wee lil path. Cornflake crosses wee lil Timmy's path regularly. Along with making sure Cornflake doesn't crack her head on the side of our fireplace, or bang her head into the glass doors, or insert her head into crevices in our den I never knew existed, I also have the daunting task, too, of ensuring that her open, salivating mouth comes nowhere near wee lil Timmy's own salivating tongue. It's a gross little matter, you see, but, this matter gets ever so much grosser. Again, you have been warned.

If you are a dog-owner, you may, too, be aware of a dirty little secret that dog owners painstakingly attempt to keep. I, however, am about to reveal this confidential information, as it plays heavily into the gross little matter at hand. You see, there comes a time in a wee lil dog's life (and, from what I understand, sometimes in the lives of bigger canines, too) that that wee lil dog discovers his Xanadu. That Xanadu comes in the form of cat turds. My neighbors have unleashed their cats onto this world, and their cats find our backyard to be the holiest of litter boxes. And Timmy finds our backyard to be the holiest of smorgasbords. From what I understand, cats eat delicious feline morsels, yet their tender lil kitty tummies just can't break down all of those morsels on their way out the door. So, wee lil Timmy and his dog-friends alike get to enjoy those indigested delicious feline morsels all over again. It's great. So, what a dilemma. Now, we must be extra-vigilant in watching Timmy and his drool fetish. But, my friend, the story is not done. It is much worse. And you have been warned.

Cornflake has begun eating new foods up the wazoo. She loves green beans; she loves peas. She loves bread; she loves pasta. She loves bananas; she loves potatoes. Cornflake loves corn. Can you see where this story is going? Corn. All this new food is hard on lil Cornflake's lil tummy. Oftentimes, I have to strap on the gasmask and fire up the garden hose to change those precious size three Huggies. It is a difficult, multi-step process. I usually tie three Target bags around these diapers alone upon their removal, as they are far too potent to be allowed into the Diaper Champ. Can you see where this story is going?

Guess what wee lil Timmy discovered?

Right. Paradise, right there in front of him, tossed onto the bathroom floor while Cornflake was being bathed to wash off her Gee Those Foods Taste Delicious stench. That Target bag plastic is not as mighty as it appears.

You might consider buying stock in Greenies. I think I've bought out the entire supply in a thirty mile radius. I have considered adding Listerine to Timmy's water bowl, but I don't have time to deal with a doggy drinking problem on top of this. Needless to say, we are always on Timmy French kissing patrol. At least until his application for his monastery camp is approved.