Long before we had children ... we had dogs. Two big dogs. A yellow labrador retriever ... Monty, and a black labrador retriever ... Molly.
We love our dogs. But since the arrival of children, our dogs have been sequestered to our garage and "dog-run" along the side of our house. The dog run is separated from our back yard by a cleverly constructed gate, designed by Charlie.
I decided - today - that having the dogs in the back yard with the kids, at the same time, isn't a great idea. Unless, the dogs have been walked in an area other than our back yard, BEFORE they are set loose to roam with our three "omniverous ones".
Can you guess what transpired? Like all things around here ... it happened pretty quickly.
The babies were playing in the back yard. I opened the gate to let the dogs in to socialize with us. Molly runs off in one direction ... Monty runs off in the other direction ... and both waste no time time depositing an item that the babies are bound and determine to investigate. I could see *it* happening before *it* even happened. The kids started making their way towards the hunched-over dogs with arms outstretched. With speed and strength that I never imagined I possessed ... I darted around the yard - expertly avoiding the "land mines" and snatching up curious toddlers on my way in to the house.
I've often wondered what I'd do if faced with a dire situation and I, alone, needed to pick up all of the kids at once. Little did I know that the dire situation would come by way of dog poop in the back yard. Nonetheless, I can rest easy knowing that I am fully capable of holding three squirmy todders, if necessary.