Two days ago, though, I'd stumbled upon an episode of a new-to-us show, Kipper on Sprout® (Oh he is so CUTE! Have you seen this puppy? I don't think I'd even mind cleaning up all the little cartoon poopies if I could have a sweet little lovey-eyed puppy with a British accent!) and fired it up for Bean to divert her from her determination to help me cut up fresh tomatoes for the StewedDamatersCornandOkra because? Have you ever
So Tuesday evening Miss Bean, coaxed from her position as sous-chef by Kipper-the-dog and a handful of Snyders of Hanover Butter Snaps®, lay snuggled on the sofa, completely engrossed in and cooing over the clever and polite exploits of her new canine hero when I heard the familiar garage-door hum and moved out of the way to wait expectantly for first notes of the Customary Greeting Ceremony to sound.
But there was only silence.
Bean? I hear the garage door!! Guess who's home?!
Don't werry, iss jus' Daddy, Mama. He knows howda get inside all by his little self now. We can jus' see him when he comes inside. I'm watchin' dis puppy.
Poor Daddy. If I hadn't gone out to get him, I think he'd still be sitting in that car waiting for his little welcoming committee.
Hey, at least this time I got the First Kiss!