Dreaming of Fenway

I was sitting on the couch tonight watching Spongebob, or Phineas and Pherb, or Funniest Home Video's, or..... honestly, I don't remember. At this point I'm numb to all the shows they watch and until Opening Day I've got no good reason to switch the channel; however, the next 6 months are payback for all the nights those little suckers make me watch some cartoon they've seen 8 million times already.

Anyways, I'm on the couch and Trot jumps up on the seat next to me, informs me his head itches, and proceeds to scratch it.

With his foot.

Like some deranged, over sized Labrador Retriever.

I couldn't take a picture of it at the time because Rakes was texting my friend Amy. Yes, my 7 year old was texting a 30+ year old married woman. If you read this blog with any regularity you A. Knew this was coming and B. Aren't surprised. But needless to say; watching my youngest child gleefully scratch his head with his foot wasn't something I expected to see when I woke up this morning.

Thankfully I got him to replicate the feat a little while later.

Don't worry.

The Prozac helps me sleep at night.