With little sleep, I heard some stirring downstairs. Shea, who was sleeping at the foot of the bed, was curious about what was going on and got up to check it out. I was taking a moment to roll myself out of bed, when I heard him greeted with love and excitement. I figured I could relax and try to catch a few more minutes of sleep.
When I woke up a second time, it was not to loving greetings, but to the noise of chaos. From what I gathered, the toilet had overflowed and my parents had rushed to try to adhere the problem. This means they left their breakfast sitting on the table. In their home, that is not really considered a bad move. I, however, find it to be an idiotic move!
From the noises, voices, and ruckus I heard, I imagine that it went something like this. My parents gathered around the toilet with a plunger, concentrating very hard on stopping the flow of water, while Shea saw an opening to have an early breakfast. My father must have heard his paws hit the table and went running out of the bathroom, plunger in hand. Shea chowed down on the half of bagel he managed to scrounge. My mother telling my father to "just let him have it." She continued, "he hasn't had breakfast yet. He is just hungry."
My poor mother. She is just too sweet and kind in all facets of her life. She is as far from a dog person as you can get, but Shea is like a ray of sunshine sent down from heaven. The boy can do no wrong.
With this entire incident, mind you I only heard it, I am wondering where the best place for Shea is on my weekend trips to Cleveland. I don't want Shea to be a burden on my parents. I can see where that may start to happen if they continue to lose half of their breakfast each time he is there. But, in a way, I think a little chaos does people good every once in a while. There seems to be no better time for it than a Sunday morning!
Today marks one month since I left Cleveland after moving Jeff there. One down, nine to go. Single digits, yeah!
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