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To The Pound, Or Bust

Yesterday, I took the boys to the pound to look at cats. We didn't find the right cat for our family, so we ended up coming back home. I promised them that we would go to another pound tomorrow. With that promise in mind, they went about their business not forgetting for an instant about my promise. The day before, I had decided to start my exercise program again. With complete arrogance, I did the entire Tae-Bo video and congratulated myself for being able to get through it after months of ignoring it. "Wow! My heart is still going strong!" I said to myself. Twenty-four hours later, every muscle in my body was yelling at me. So, when we got back from the pound, I decided to feed the baby and then take a screaming hot bath to try to take away the aches and pains. I put the baby in his carseat next to the tub and closed myself off behind the shower curtain. Sleepy comes in and decides to talk to me and since the baby was fussing I asked him to put the pacifier in the baby's mouth. Since Sneezy is a very stubborn little boy, Sleepy had to keep the pacifier in his mouth the whole time. Eventually, Sleepy got tired of this vigilance and said he was done. I said, "No, you're not. Keep doing it for a little while longer." At which point the conversation went something like this:
"Can I stop now, Mom?"
"No."
"Now?"
"No."
"Now?"
"NO!"
"Now?"
"Fine! Everybody out! (Since Happy was in there, too. I never get a peaceful time to myself anymore.)
Later that evening, I developed a fever of 100.1. Bashful gave me some medicine and went downstairs to inform his father of my illness. He said, "Mom is sick. She has a fever. You're going to have to take us to the pound tomorrow." Good thing I'm doing fine today since his father laughed his head off at that statement.

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