My basement smells like

a doggie house of ill repute.

Last night I wasn't feeling well, so I went to the bedroom to lie down and watch a little mindless TV leaving husband in charge of the children and the dog.

That was my first mistake.

I heard him tell the girls to go let Cooper out and make sure he had water.

No problem there. He is their responsibility in certain areas and they do a good job.

About 30 minutes later the bedroom door flew open and my little darlings came running in asking in they could lie down with me.

Then it hit me, just as McKinley was about to leap onto the bed.

"Why do you two smell like a whor... er, what is that smell?"

"We sprayed Cooper because he smelled yucky."

"How many times?"

"I sprayed him 4 times because I am 4." Reagan informed me.

"I sprayed him 3 times because I am 3! McKinley added with great delight.

All I could think is how glad I was husband didn't spray him.

Apparently in the process of spraying the dog (one squirt of the doggie perfume is almost too much) they managed to get it all over their clothes and in their hair.

Ugh! Can't a mommy be sick and get some rest for just a little while?

After getting all cleaned up and smelling like little girls I did let them come in and snuggle with me.

Cooper is banished to the basement until his eau de cologne wears off. Just opening the basement door is enough to nearly knock you down.

Ah, what I would give for a dead bird carcass for him to roll around on.