"Your son," he begins, of course he is MY son when he is bad. "Your son decided it would be a good idea to get paint all over the house."
Excuse me, paint? How did he get paint? Where is there even paint in our house and where the hell did he find a screw driver to pop open the can?
Ryan continues to explain that while he was in the bathroom
Ryan came out of the bathroom to find Abner STANDING ON THE KITCHEN TABLE, paint all over his face and front paws, calmly staring out the window. Why he was on the kitchen table I honestly have no idea, but there he sat, perhaps he was showing off his painted face.
This is about the time I got home. Ryan was finishing wiping up paw prints and I arrived just in time to attempt to clean the carpet. Does anyone have any brilliant ideas on how to get paint out of carpeting?
So, the offer stands, what do you think a fair rate for a paint eating French Bulldog is?
And let's not even get into the ideas running through my head about our future human child. Oh that Nessier kids parents let him eat paint again...What's that, the Nessier kid is ripping the stuffing out of his toys again. I swear that child was raised by dogs?