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You know the old adage that goes something like, "Swallow a live frog in the morning, and the rest of the day is bound to be an improvement."

Assuming that's the case, my next entry should concern Ginger winning a suprise "babysitting and spa pampering" trip.

Paxton woke her up about 2:00 this morning. At about 4:30, she gave up and took him downstairs, dropped him in front of a video, and came back to bed. When she went back down to get him at 6:30 (he'd fallen asleep), she found and cleaned the tremendous, worm-filled poop that Molly deposited on the kitchen floor. Oh, and she got a sample to take to the vet, since Molly's vet doesn't take drop-offs, and Ginger's dad can't take her himself.

Trying to get the kids to do anything this morning was like pushing on a rope (or pulling on one attached to a stubborn mule). I was trying an experiment, hoping that if I was obnoxious enough to them, they would start moving just to get to school and away from me. That particular hypothesis would appear to be incorrect, but I'm all about the scientific process.

I did manage to get Chance on the bus with at least 45 seconds to spare, and traffic was incredibly light for a Monday with the threat of an ice storm (newsflash: it ain't gonna happen). So, sweetie, there's hope for you yet: turn on the radio and get the speed dial warmed up, cause you're going to the spa!

After you fix breakfast for your father. And feed the dogs. And mop the floor where Molly pooped. And take the poop to the vet.

Oh, and you might as well stop by Starbuck's on the way. You'll need that caramel macchiato to wash down that frog.

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