Words you never ever want to wake up to, especially not with a baby who needs to be fed in the mix: "You're gonna want to swiffer all downstairs because the dog just barfed and pooped everywhere."
"Not again" is also not a reply you want to give, because of the repeat-performance implication.
I was looking for a crying-sob gif, but son-of-a-bitch turns out to be just as, if not more, appropriate. Anyway, if you tuned in yesterday, you already read about the wonders of the crying baby + vomiting dog fiesta from the other night. Today, let me be your ringmaster in a whole new show I like to call the Crap Circus.
There's not much to tell really. My inlaws are visiting and staying in the guestroom where Neville is normally happily crated for the night, but heaven forbid we mess with his pwecious schedule, because he decided to unleash unholy things from both ends in what I only assume is revenge (or, you know, eating something that didn't sit well...for several days). Around 4:30 he started whining and the next thing you know, the Crap Circus had rolled into town. After a few horks we thought it was over, but it turned out...not to be the case, as Patrick discovered three hours later when he was up for work.
I eventually banished him (Neville, not Patrick) to the patio long enough to clean everything up and nurse in peace and ensure -- knock on wood dear sweet god -- that he's pretty emptied out of his concentrated evil. Luckily texting exists so I can get some good laughs in. Better to laugh than sob uncontrollably, right?
I will say, Freddie's definitely earning some major points in all of this, just in terms of comparison. Kid, you're the hands-down winner in the house. Apparently the bar is set at "not puking and pooping on the ONE CARPET we owned" (note the past tense).
I will not reenact Old Yeller, I will not reenact Old Yeller, I will not reenact Old Yeller...