I'll have a Scotch

We are petsitting. Our dear friend Janet, has gone to Scotland for a month, leaving us with her Westie, Colin. Now mind you, I'm still not sure if it's Colin, or Cullen, because with Janet's brogue, it's hard to tell. And the silly dog won't come unless you call him with the brogue, so I'm not sure even HE knows what his name is. He's not the brightest lightbulb in the bunch, but he sure is cute.

Janet grew up in Scotland. She was the youngest child of 8, and tells wonderful stories of family life there. She always says that, since it wasn't proper for women of the day to discuss their delicate condition, Janet's dad wasn't told that her mother had a bun in the oven till the day she was born. Imagine that! Of course, he probably knew, but then again, some guys ARE pretty clueless about the female stuff.

Mondays were washday, so it was customary for the oldest child to take the younger ones to school with them, so Mom could do the laundry unencumbered. Janet's oldest brother carried her to school in a laundry basket, put her next to his desk, then carried her home at the end of the day. I can't really envision that happening today, but hubby did take our oldest to classes at IU, for a while. He'd plop him in his carseat, where Thomas would happily entertain himself for the duration. That is, till the day in developmental psych, when the professor was discussing infant development. Suddenly, Thomas let out a babble of glee (he was ten months old at the time and who knows, maybe he could relate to the topic). The professor stopped talking and asked "is there a baby in here?" Hubby replied, "that'd be me," and made a quick exit. Thomas never went to class with him again. We have the whole thing on tape.