"Farrah, it's time to get up"
"Toby drop that!"
"Farrah! Get up now. You're going to be late."
"I don't care that you don't want to get up. Get up! TOBY!!! Leave it!"
"You HAVE to take a shower. YES YOU DO! Get in the shower, I have to take Toby outside."
"Toby, go biiiiiiggg potty. Good boy! NO! Drop it!"
"FARRAH?!!! Why aren't you in the shower?!!!"
"Farrah get dressed. Get dressed. Get dressed. Get dressed. GET DRESSED!"
This was me this morning:
You get the idea. I suppose I don't have to go through my entire morning, however, know that my evening ended very similarly, if not worse. Farrah was putting her finger in Toby's cage in the smallest whole and got her finger stuck. STUCK-stuck. Now, this is when she becomes a teapot. She starts with a whimpering whine and then turns into a shrieking siren. Her screams are blood curdling. Her screams make me scream. My head is down by her head, therefore her screaming is directly into my ear canal.
Why the hell did she put her finger in there? How the hell did it get stuck? I suppose we should ask her Grandma Jan who gets her feet, hands, and fingers stuck in everything and has since she was Farrah's age. Is that even a gene you can pick up? So I was able to come to her rescue by putting some ice on her finger and hoping my memory of some science projects would work. I figured I'd ice it until the swelling would go down enough for me to wiggle the gate door and free her finger. Whew!! It worked, thank god. Wasn't sure if I was going to have to go to the ER with her attached to the crate with Toby inside wondering what the eff was going on. My evening ended with me looking a little like this...