where i sacrifice my ultimate pet dog name for the betterment of blogkind

Right now Hanes is having a freak out because I told her she can't watch Dora, because Dora is in bed. It's 9:34 here and I'm sure it's even later wherever Dora lives. Her parents are inattentive and negligent, but since they have three kids under the age of, what, 5? I'd say they are strict about having your ass in bed when the clock strikes 8. But maybe I'm just projecting.

I really like having a cat named Jingles, because it's so fun to yell at her. "Jingles! You get down from there!" is so much more fun to say than, "Nick!" or "Rex!" or "DAMMIT Isabelle!!"

Which brings me to my ultimate dog name. If we ever get a dog, it will be because we have both completely lost our freaking minds. But! If we do, I have the perfect name. I've had this name picked out forever:

Hot. Diggety. Dog.

Can you imagine how great that would be? "This is Hot Diggety. You can call him Hot Diggety." Or even better, I like to imagine yelling down the street for a wayward dog. "Hot Diggety Dog, you get your ass back in here!"

I don't actually swear in front of the children or in a yelling voice outside of the house. But I think it adds a lot to my fantasy of having a dog named Hot Diggety.

Ohhhhh Helena shut up. Go to bed. Stop talking. I don't even know what she's saying. I think she just told me my blue is missing. ?? My brain is so tired by the end of the day from trying to decipher what all these kids are thinking/saying, when most of the time it makes no sense or hinges on a make-believe game they have failed to clue me into.

Oh! But that reminds me that today I decided I think 7 or 8 is my favorite age. And I liked age 2 a lot, but remind me to post about what I like about 7 or 8ish.