Seth's Sunday Stroll

**as dictated to Dad

Since its Sunday, Mom is “resting” not blogging. I am big and three now, so I will tell about our Sunday walk. Our family goes on a walk almost every Sunday after dinner. Mom and Dad never remember that I hate strollers, so every week I have to spend at least 10 minutes convincing them that big kids like me don’t ride in strollers for their Sunday walk. Emma, Gabe, Jane and Me always like to workout our “core” muscles a little bit so we make sure to never pass the house with the retaining wall without balance-beam-walking our way from start to finish. It is crucial that we do the whole thing, so someone should tell my Dad not to get hopeful if we fall off part way through because we are not going to “let’s get going” with him. We’re going to start over as many times as it takes.

My mom and Dad don’t really know how to enjoy a good walk. You shouldn’t just rush by everything. Like if you see a dog, you should pet it … EVERY SINGLE TIME. Even if it is the same dog you just pet on the other side of the block, you still need to be friendly and stop and pet him again. You can’t rush a good petting though. You have to ease into it. I am usually kind of nervous around a new dog, or even a not-so-new one. I find that it helps to alternate between laughing and running toward the dog and then crying and running away just as the dog is within petting range. A good 3-5 bouts of this helps me work up the courage to get down to business.

I take my image seriously. I don’t like to have all my “peeps” see me unless I am looking my best. I like to be clean and presentable. So you can only guess how upset I was today when I got halfway through my walk, only to realize that someone had gotten my shirt dirty! I hate that. Mom was not taking the matter very seriously. That hurt a little bit.

“You wash it? We will wash it at home. You wash it mom? Mom … you should wash it!”

NOTHING. – Was I speaking Mandarin here? All I was looking for was a little reassurance. And I wasn’t even getting eye contact. Then Dad said,

“Don’t worry Seth, when we get home we will put all your clothes with you in them into the washing machine”

He was going to do it! I know he was serious. I would be churned, and rinsed and spun in that big white scary thing. Why would he do this to me? Oh how I cried to know only half a walk stood between me and the end of 3 great years. There was a lot of loss to mourn, but I really did my best to do it justice. Mom and Dad could tell I was upset by the short time we had left together, so guess what … She made that big old guy promise that he wouldn’t actually throw me into the washing machine with my clothes on. Then he offered to seal the deal by shaking on it. I’ll admit that the request seemed odd but I was so overjoyed that I threw caution to the wind and shook on it with him. As he stretched out his hand towards me I shook my head and arms and little bum for good measure. I frankly wasn’t impressed by the old man though. He didn’t seem to shake as much on his end.

Jane and I can be real opposites when it comes to hygiene. Take today’s walk for example, not 5 minutes after I got done baring my soul in tearful expression over the dirt on my shirt, Jane (who Dad claims could have an entire piece of pizza in her bangs at dinner without noticing) was walking around barefoot. As everyone took the customary break to yell way back my way to “hurry up Seth” Jane stands in a pile of squishy, smelly brown stuff that our doggie friends leave all over. As I take my sweet time approaching Jane just stands in “it” happily chatting away until Dad finally had to tell her to get out of “it”. See what I mean about opposites?

So after more dogs and crying and another pass by the “core” training course, we made it home, another Sunday tradition well maintained.

... I have to go now. I have got to get out of this shirt.