rainy day

Trapped in the house with an infant. We were denied our morning walk by a downpour. The dog is walking around with a constipated look on her face. She is such a wimp! If the grass is the least bit wet she refuses to set her paw on it. This is no fancy pants little pooch -- she's a 55 lb pit bull, with the face of a hyena and the soul of a buttercup. She'd much rather snooze the day away in front of the space heater. Luckily, she has bladder of steel.
The baby himself is looking out at the magnolia tree, relatively content for the moment. He's still pretty small, I have to remind myself. Three months of life is nothing. That's like a summer vacation. That's as long as he's been counted among the living. Pretty wild.
I think we'll get in the car and go for a drive -- I must get out of the house, if only to the post office. Perhaps we'll manage the library. And if we're very very good, a cup of coffee.
Life holds many small rewards if we're willing to call them as such.