Imagine if you will, a crazy scenario in which I have elected to make the cake for my own wedding. It was a wee cake, but stressful nonetheless as it would be photographed by all who were to attend. Being the OCD kind of gal I am, I made several cakes so just in case I screwed up the fondant, I would have a backup. (Note to self: you can't really screw up fondant, it's a force to be reckoned with.) So on the fateful cake assembly day, I pull the ziplock-ensconced cakes out of the fridge and put them on the counter to acclimate. They're pretty tall counters so I think nothing of it, I know that our scavenger dog, Stinkbug, can't get to them as he has legs that are only like 3 inches long (hence the Napoleon syndrome and his bad attitude). I go to the store and pick up more tulle or some other wedding nonsense, then come back to begin the frightening task at hand. Except I walk in, and there are cake crumbs all over the floor. So after I come to, I realize that my sweet, quiet, layed-back old dog ate the wedding cake!!!!! After all, he does have dog-sized limbs and could easily snatch the ziplocks off the counter. Luckily he left one package, so we had our wee wedding cake.
So when I got pregnant, Jacksoncup was by my side constantly. Like I said, he's a sweet boy. He always checked on me when I didn't feel well, and would lay beside me when I was crashed out on the couch from carrying the big load that was the Little Nugget. I never had a doubt that Jackson would do well with the baby, and he has proven me right.
I thought he would take care of her like he does me, but he keeps a little distance from the whirling dervish that is the Babygirl. I'm sure this is because of his age: we found out not too long ago that he has bone spurs on his spine and arthritis in his hips, poor guy. But that doesn't keep him from doing the occasional happy wiggle out in the yard. He loves the sun!
All for now,