(I promise this isn't becoming a pet blog, but hey, I just got the little fella. Slack, por favor?)
1. I am 2:3 on getting Spence to poop outside, which basically feels like an accomplishment on par with passing two bar exams.
2. I bought Spence a squeaky toy and he really likes it. No, I mean he REALLY likes it. He'll wrestle with it for awhile, but inevitably ends up humping it. After a minute or so of this, he will look up at me and whine in confusion. I interpret this as, "Ru, this isn't nearly as fun as I had somehow imagined it would be. What's going on?"
So sorry, little friend, but you're never going to get to do the real thing. Snip snip time!
3. I don't love it when people call me Spence's "mom." I'm not his mom, I'm his Ru. I'm pretty sure he calls me by name in his brain, so let's not confuse the little guy.
Though all my friends and siblings? Yeah, they're aunties and uncles. I don't know how it works, either.