TERMS

If there's ever a lesson that IV has taught me - about life, about MYSELF and the power of genetics - it's that sometimes you just have to let someone do things on their own terms.

This child.

For three and a half years, he has refused to take a shower. Like, kicking, screaming, I WILL NOT TAKE A SHOWER.

Boys shower, right?

Since moving into our Sealy house, which has no tub, we've been relegated to the kitchen sink. Which, while big enough, often results in tsunami-type water issues on the wood floors, in the cabinets, down the counter to iPads and such.

Suddenly, one night, after bath, I was in the shower.

And he asked to join me.

Showers prevail, ever since.

Eli, the Wonder Dog, has been with me for almost 9 years. More than anything, I wanted the melding of children and dogs to be this wonderful, fuzzy, warm thing...where Eli was welcomed into beds and by feet, hugged and petted and walked and adored.

Instead, I got the Tom and Jerry show.



They torment one another - it's as if they understand that each other is an impediment to my attention and therefore, YOU MUST BE ELIMINATED.



IV forces Eli down the slide at the playground. Eli pushes him down with paws. Eli corners him off the couch. IV hides his stuffed animal toys and treats.



Until...two nights ago.

IV woke up three or four times around midnight, claiming to be "scared." After multiple walking back down the hall and putting back in bed and patting and scratching and hugs and kisses, in sheer desperation I asked "do you want Eli to sleep with you and keep you safe?"

And, to my surprise, the response was "yes."

So I called Eli in and commanded him to "stay" on the bed.

Eli looked at me dubiously. Expecting the catapult to launch him out the window at any moment.

So for the last two nights, Eli has been a mainstay in IV's bed, and sleep has come (and stayed) without any argument or disruption.

On his own terms, this child.

Sounds like someone else I know.