Bailey’s tearing part her umpteeth toy this week.
Someone (Bailey) is a bit cabin feverish, so despite the playing, tummy rubs and toy rotation, she’s in Seasonal Kill Mode.
me: Hey, Captain Destruction. Stop killing sheepie.
Bailey: Huh? What? Sheepie? Um, no, I was holding it, kissing it, and this ball of fluff fell out.
me: knock it off.
Bailey proceeds to pout and drag her toenails across the kitchen floor.
She walks over to her toy box and pulls out blue bunny.
Laying down in the living room, but facing me, she starts tearing at bunny.
me: dude, I can see you.
She turns 1/4 of the way away, I see bunny’s legs jerking.
me: I’m right here.
She gets up and walks into the front room, from which a subtle tearing noise emits.
me: I heard that.
She comes back, Bunny is bleeding fluff.
And now, she’s laying on disemboweled and legless Chef Bird, a feeble attempt to make me feel better about my hair delimnea*.
* my hair is a misbehaving mess of who-knows-what, I’m due out of town and don’t want to look like a hobo and my haircutter lady has been booked. WHAT TO DO WHAT TO DO?!?!?!