In the morning after getting his first sippy cup and the requisite diaper change the first thing the baby wants to do is great Babo.
Babo = Sam's word for Roscoe...our boxer.
He awkwardly toddler runs over to the dog bed with both hands flapping in the air and flops on top of our poor sleeping canine. I feel so bad for the dog because I know with *perfect* clarity that waking up at your own chosen time is one of life's great pleasures. And Sam pretty much always robs me of this luxury these days, so I feel bad that not even Roscoe can escape Sam's early morning sphere of influence.
I want to protect my poor pup and at least let him sleep in until he wants to get up...instead of being covered by very slobbery baby kisses and then promptly kicked out of his own bed. SOMEONE in the house should be enjoying bed as long as they want...