Tough guy?

Now, I'm a pretty tough guy, if I say so myself. Not bragging or anything, just a statement of fact. But there is one thing that scares the shit out of me. Little kids. Infants scare me because they're little squirmy things and I'm afraid I'm not holding them right or that I might drop them. I got two little kids coming over today, quasi-toddlers, they're like 3 and 4.

Toddlers scare me because my house isn't kid-proof. Mrs. F and I don't have any kids because we're still having too much fun and, in our mid-forties, we're too used to the life we've made over the last 15 years. The Mrs. has beautiful crystal and precious shit, antiques and all, and all of it is within the grasp of a toddler. Every time we have friends with kids over, all I do is wait for the crash, and Mrs. F asking me if I have some kind of epoxy to glue whatever back together.

Another thing is the dog, Mrs. F's little princess. She's short, but not little, muscular and strong as hell. If you know anything about Australian Cattle Dogs, they are smart, independent, and stubborn, sorta like me. Well, thanks to their breeding, Cattle Dogs herd cattle by nipping at their ankles to get them to go where the dog wants. Well, since our little Shayna has no cattle to work, she finds herself little jobs. One is getting us to the phone when it rings. If you've ever gotten a nip in the ass from one of these dogs well . . . let's just say it leaves a mark.

My point is that the dog looks at little kids as cattle. She tries to keep them together and won't let them run around. So today, not only do I have to keep an eye on the Mrs.' breakable shit, but I have to watch her little varmint like a hawk so she doesn't nip one of the kids. Can't break the dog of that habit, it's instinct.

So, my early afternoon will be spent playing child monitor. Great. But it will be a good day. Friends are here from Colorado, a Lt. Colonel in the Air Force with her kid and her sister and her husband with theirs. I grew up with them and it's always great to see them. Thing is, running after kids wears me out more than a full day of working for Harry. At least I'll sleep well tonight. That is, after I glue Mrs. F's broken shit back together.