Pink Sheets

Wednesday, January 17, 2007

Welcome Home

Sunday I drove Riley and Darby to their dad's house at 3:00 pm, as I do every single Sunday after my week with them is done. We drive up, they jump out and give me my good-bye kisses. I wait in the car to make sure they make it in alright. (I don't go up to the door anymore because I hate the new wife and while it might irritate her to have me at the door, I don't care enough to do it.) So, I'm waiting in the car. They ring the doorbell because the door is locked. It appears as if there isn't anyone home. Riley finds the spare key.

He unlocks the door and I'm waiting in the car, debating whether to leave them or take them. I figure their dad knows they're coming back. Maybe he ran to the store or something. He should be home soon. But I see Riley struggling to get the key out of the door and realized I couldn't leave them. Riley can't even take the key out of the door.

I walk up to the house. And Darby seems distraught. She's upset they left the dog in the house. Actually, she's a puppy. An unpotty trained puppy. Who, it appears, has left little presents all over the front room of the house. It as horrible. Darby is rushing, trying to get the dog outside, saying over and over again, "why would they leave her in the house".

She then informs Riley they need to get this poop cleaned up. She grabs a bunch of paper towels, picks up a handful and leaves the room. I try calling their dad. No answer. I call Brian. I begin to leave a message, "Jeff isn't here and I can't get a hold of him. I think I might take the kids shopping with me. I left him a message, but in case he stops by...(background: tell him the dog crapped all over the carpet) Oh and the dog crapped all over the pla..." Brian picks up, just about the time Darby is picking up another pile and once again leaves the room. I actually don't know where she's taking the poop and I didn't care at the time. I was distracted.

I talk to Brian and decide to take the kids up to their grandma's house because there is no way I am leaving them with all this poop. And it was every where. It also looked like the dog must have walked through a pile because there was a poopy paw print trail.

And then, to top it off, Darby rushes out, "Riley! You have to help me. The toilet is clogged!" I guess we know where she took the piles. So not only is the front room covered in puppy dog feces, but the toilet is clogged.

I told her to leave it, get your shoes back on. We are leaving. And then I chuckled.


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