I've been hanging out with this cute face this weekend while his parents are out of town. This is much to my poor cat's misery—I thought she would just ignore him, but she had a meltdown of Whitney Houston proportions yesterday. Anyway, I was joking to a pal yesterday that puppy-sitting has forced me to realize what kind of mom I'm going to be: The type that gives her kid a singsong running commentary ("Ooh, let's go to the pa-aa-aark") and uses the collective we incessantly ("Are we thirsty? Do we need to poop?"). On the upside, at least I'm going to give my kid some awesome self-esteem. The drunk guy near the dog run burst in to laughter when he overheard my shower of compliments ("You were such a team player! Everyone loved you!") on our walk home.
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