DH and I walked the dog together tonight; LO was at a pool party and we had some freedom. Well, we generally have a little more freedom these days. LO is fine to stay home so we can walk the dog.
Any hoo, 2 blocks up the street, Little Dog assumed the position. DH held out the handle of the dog lead so I could untie the plastic bag, so I could Scoop and Dispose.
Little Dog seemed to complete her task, so I crept to the general vicinity and began the Search for the Poop.
"Was she here? Or here?" Her poop is about half as big as your thumb -- she really is a LITTLE dog -- and it is oftentimes hard to find, particularly in darkness, or semi-darkness.
DH assured me she had not, in fact, pooped at all, only attempted, it was a balk. So he started to walk away. I wanted to tie the plastic bag back onto the leash handle.
"Just hand it to me," he asserted.
"I want to tie it on," I replied.
"Just hand it to me," he repeated.
"I want to tie it on," I repeated.
"I'll carry it!" he said.
"What happened to the woman getting her way?" I plaintively asked, handing him the bag.
"With plastic bags??" he asked, puzzled. He had not heard this rule.
"No, with everything," I replied.
"It's 2008, chick, catch up," he said. "Those days are over, long over."
But -- we did tie the bag back onto the handle.
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