Tuesday, November 27, 2012

Thanksgiving Week Instagrams and the Case of the Missing Rolls.

First off, this is who I'm snuggling with tonight:

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I'm helping out my parents for the next few days, meaning Henry is my one and only snuggle buddy. And if you want the honest truth? He may be the best baby cuddler who has ever existed. I mean, Max loved cuddling as a baby and his cuddles were absolutely heavenly, but he liked it for five or ten minutes and then scooted away from us (well, unless he was looking for boobs) and took up the entire middle of the bed. Henry, on the other hand, starts cuddling and five minutes later he's somehow underneath you and on top of you at the same time. Also, he breathes heavier than a ninety-year-old. You can hear him across the room.

That's not what I'm going to talk about tonight, though.
Tonight I'm going to talk about Maxwell and the Case of the Missing Rolls.
After these Thanksgiving Week Instagrams (for posterity, of course! also for me.):

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Now that we've got that out of the way, on Thanksgiving we didn't make paper hats or indulge in pinterest worthy crafts. Nope! On Thanksgiving, we watched football and wore stretchy pants and the kids ran around like hooligans in the backyard as a parent sat on the patio yelling at them to not come close to the turkey fryer. We also ate chocolate chip cookies before dinner, but right before we began to indulge in the cookies, my mom sent Anna to get the uncooked yeast rolls (my mom's rolls are famous) that were hanging out by the fireplace.

Which is when Anna said, "Mom. Come here."
To which my mom responded, "What is it?"
Anna: "You just... need to come here."
Mom: "Just tell me!" (she was busy cooking).

And then Anna brought over a pan of rolls and half of them were missing. Then she brought another and another and all of them had missing rolls. We counted (well- my mom, Anna, and Joy counted and I sat nursing) and fifteen rolls were missing. Fifteen!! We then decided that the only logical explanation for the missing rolls were our overzealous dogs who wanted in on some early Thanksgiving action, even though the saran wrap wasn't crinkled.

We looked up what happens to dogs that eat uncooked yeast rolls (apparently there is an urban legend about this!) and after frantic phone calls to our vets and emergency vets, we ended up giving the dogs medicine to make them throw up. Hours went by and nothing really happened to the dogs- they felt bloated, then the bloating went away and we kept saying "How did they eat so many rolls?!".

That's when the toilet overflowed.
And overflowed again.
And again.
With nothing in it.

And that's when my dad asked Max to flush the toilet. Max flushed the toilet and when my dad asked him if he flushed down the rolls, he smiled and said "Yeahhh."

Later, we asked him if his cousins had flushed the rolls, to which he said "no" and giggled. When we asked if it was him, he said "yeahhh!" some more. And that's when we remembered that Max had tried an uncooked roll and pulled a face before he got in trouble because he thought they were gross. He just wanted to get rid of the bad food! So, he fed them to the toilet (and yes! also to the dogs! I'll spare you the details). He was seriously pleased with himself. I love that boy.

PS. We've found three rolls underneath three pieces of furniture, so really this should be called Maxwell and the Dogs and the Case of the Missing Rolls. Those three are a team!

P.P.S. We taught Max how to honk the car horn this weekend. Judge us.