Nope, that's not a new breed of dog...just Willa Bea...in the dog bed. So before you go thinking what a terrible mother I am for shamelessly using my dog bed as a photo prop and subjecting my precious baby to such unsanitary surroundings, you must know that I had nothing to do with it. Yes, I'll admit to times when that plush Ikea dog bed seemed like the perfect mobile baby corral. Back before she was crawling, Willa suffered from colic, lacked any sort of a schedule, and took short and sporadic naps. Therefore, I found it very difficult to get into the shower unless someone was over and could watch her for a bit. I know it's silly, but I couldn't bear the thought that she might need me while I was out of earshot. Moving the dog bed into the bathroom and putting Willa inside it seemed like a brilliant solution. Except for one detail...it was the dog's bed. So I never went through with it. But now that she is getting around quite well, crawling about from room to room, she has discovered it on her own. This morning I put her down by her basket of toys and proceeded to check my emails. When I turned back to check on her, she had claimed Beecher's bed and tennis ball and was gleaming with pride. It reminded me of when I was a little girl, living on "the farm" and had both a pet goat, "Goatie," that ran with our dogs, and a pet duck, "Georgette," that naturally assumed she was one of the cats.
The good news is that I have come a long way. Just a few short months ago, the mere thought that my pure little bundle of perfection might be given a nibble of non-organic peas or, God forbid, sugar would have sent me over the edge. And here I am today, hardly phased by the dog hair.
Still, she' s probably been spending too much time with the dogs. Maybe we ought to schedule a human play-date?
