and we got a dog.

Meet Maude.

The kids adore her.

But not as much as my husband does.

Maude is a Portuguese Water Dog.  She doesn’t shed, smell, and came completely kennel and house-trained by the breeder.  She is mild-mannered, playful, and mellow.  I’ve never been a dog person and find myself loving this one.

Derrick, being who he is, decided to take her training to the next level.  A few days ago he came home for lunch with a “clicker” that he presses every time Maude does something good.  For example, he’ll say “sit,” and when she sits, he presses the clicker.  Can I just tell you that this thing is loud?  It’s like a giant can of shaken-up soda popping open in my ear every time it clicks; I guess you might call it a hiss-click.  The theory goes that, unlike giving a dog a treat after she obeys, you can click the instant she obeys, and she’ll  know immediately that she’s done something right.  The clicker is administered (HISS-CRACK!) when Maude follows the command to sit, go down, or get in her kennel.  Derrick claims that this tool gives him–the Master– total control through positive reinforcement.  I think he’s just happy that someone in the house is finally obeying him.

As for me, all I know is that every time Derrick and the dog are in the same room I hear that clicker at least a dozen times.  I’m not afraid to tell you that it’s getting on my last freaking nerve.  I mentioned this to my dear hubby a few days ago and he listened to me patiently then leaned in for a kiss.  As our lips touched, I instantly heard HISS-CRACK!  He thought that was just hysterical.  So now he keeps the clicker hidden in his pocket and, just when I’ve forgotten it’s there, presses it as I do something “correctly.”  (Physical affection seems to warrant the most clicks. Go figure.)

I do not believe there is room enough on the internet to canvass the feminist repercussions of this.  But I do still like the dog.

But don’t worry.  It’s nothing a little Midol, some chocolate, and a good chick flick can’t solve.

In the meantime, please keep your saucy male canines a good ten paces from our yard.  If you know what I mean.

finished reading this book to my son.

Have you read this book with your kids?  Did  you read it as a kid?

I recently read a review of The Phantom Tollbooth labeling it as “simply the best children’s book ever written.”  I would have to agree.

My fourth-grade teacher, Mrs. Garing, read this book aloud to our class.  She had short blond hair and big owl glasses and did all the voices with flair and I thought she hung the moon.  The book amazed me, then and now, and reading it with my own child was delicious.

I worried that the book’s legendary wordplay might confuse Ethan, but the wacky characters and their wackier adventures held him in rapture from Page One.  We interrupted our reading often so I could explain the humor, which he understood surprisingly well.  (I think, when I’m not bragging about my children, I’m underestimating them.)

Upon closing the book,  he said  “Mom, what other books did you like when you were little that you think we should read?”  Oh, what a question to ask a mother!  I began excitedly rattling off bazillion titles, and it was soon decided (unanimously) that our next literary adventure would Superfudge.  I love having a boy.