I came in from the mudroom a few weeks ago to discover this…
I can’t tell you how many times I have told (too harsh) instructed (too unrealistic) pleaded (too realistic) asked Frances and George (particularly the boy) not to sit, climb, stand, jump off of, jump onto, etc., etc., the den coffee table. And yet the sight of them sitting on the table reading to each other was much more of a picture moment than a learning moment. I love it when that happens.
PS – please note the incredible intense looks I am receiving from the dogs. I get this same unblinking stare everyday starting around 2pm, which signals “we’re ready for dinner whenever you’re ready to give it to us.” I usually cave around 3pm. Can you blame me?
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