Rest.

A few nights ago, as the boo and I were cooking dinner, our girl Susie was – unsurprisingly – glued to our feet. At no other time does she wish failure upon us more then when we are handling food. For at least ten minutes, she was pacing back and forth, nosing her way between our legs, just waiting for a crumb to fall out of our hands and do a somersault into her mouth.

Hope springs eternal, baby girl.

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