Call Caesar

The other day, I was going on and on about how good my Nesta is. I should know better. It's very similar to children. My first born was a delightful toddler. Listened, smiled, and never dreamt of telling me "NO". I would see a mother trying to reign in her tantruming toddler and shake my head and think to myself "Hmmm. Somebody needs to read up on child rearing". Because I clearly had a handle on my own little darling. That was until I had baby number two.

She is lucky that she's cute. Now I am THAT mother- with the child wearing rainboots and a tutu in the GAP. Perhaps a lollipop stuck in the hair and doing snow angels in a pile of tshirts she has just thrown on the floor. I often feared that somebody would call Super Nanny on my ass.

Now, after our AM vet visit, somebody might be calling Caesar on my ass. Nesta was a holy terror at Dr. Latta's. First, we arrived on the wrong day. But they were kind enough to give us the appointment anyway. As I sat on the bench waiting, Nesta cried and flailed. The poor little pug next to us was terrified by my 75 pound beast. The nurse ushered us into a room where Nesta continued to leap and cry- over and over. He jumped on the door, he licked the face of our vet and refused to get on the scale. The behavior continued for the whole time. Leaping and jumping, making me look like a bad Alpha leader. I finally coaxed him back into the car (not without drawing dirty looks) and we sped off. Ughhh. Naughty boy. Leave it to your kids and dog to make a liar out of you.

But alas, I shall soldier on. Naughty children and dogs included.