Okay, okay, if I MUST... I guess I can muster up the energy to elaborate on my new best friend, Charlie's, story... :) 

I don't have any pictures other than these right now because I took 5 million others this weekend that I have to get to first, but here are some from right before the princess dinner, and the blow-by-blow of how this happened:

After Madalyn's Mermaid Party, Honey took the kids to her house for a sleep-over.  The next morning, at our house, Shaun sat on the porch with the Sunday paper and I could tell he was on a mission.

What are you doing?

I'm finding a dog.

What?  Why?

Because we're going to get a dog today and surprise the kids.

We are?

Yes.

So from there, it was either jump on the band wagon and have some sort of say in WHAT dog, or end up with a gi-normous dog that might eat me and my offspring and all of our belongings with us, (because men love gi-normous dogs, didn't you know?)  I talked him down from a sheep dog (there's a reason there aren't any listed in the Florida papers with all that hair and insulation,) and more realistically, I talked him out of a St. Bernard he was taking a long look at.  I counter-bargained small, then he offered, "Golden Retriever?"  knowing full well that would win me over because once upon a time I loved my childhood Golden Retriever more than I loved Shaun.  No, no... probably not.  But Hunter was a close second.

We made some calls to answer two of the paper ads and Charlie's owner, who lived on a lake, described him as an 11 week old "blonde beach boy" who loved to fish for minnows.  That was all I needed to hear.  He also described him as massive for his age.  That was all Shaun needed to hear.

Julie was still over (aforementioned "out of town guest") so she and I made the drive to get him.  Julie, who had played no small role in talking me into the dog by promising no more mess under my kitchen table, had to prove her dog convictions authentic by catching vomit in a plastic Publix bag on the way home, and throwing a few fleas out the window.  (He was an outside dog at his prior home.)  But after a good five minutes soaked in Flea-Skip shampoo by Shaun in our bathroom shower, Charlie was fluffy and irresistible to all of us.

He has done great with potty training.  He has whined both nights for us to let him out with no accidents, but has had a few accidents in the daytime.  He cannot be held accountable for some of them, however, because I'm not sure he was responsible.  (I am toilet training two, it seems: Jack and Charlie.)  This must be what it feels like to have twins.  I might even be developing a recognition of their different urine odors.  What.  I think that's impressive.  I think you needed to know that. 

We named him Charlie because I like the name.  My brother and I actually tried to name my mom's dog that, because it's a good dog name, but she wouldn't let us name her dog.  Why?  Because she's mean.  And because she needed a story to go along with the name.  She likes stories and poems.  She's all "English Major" like that.  So her dog's "Piper."  Because he picked a pepper from a pepper plant.  (See children's rhyme involving a certain Peter Piper.) 

Shaun wanted to name Charlie a drum brand name like Zildjan (sp?) or Redneck Racecar name like Junior (Dale.) 

The pressure was on because we knew if it were up to the kids he would be named Spongebob or Squidward or Rosebud (from the movie Snowbuddies, and Madalyn's current favorite name.) Or Looksatthesunwithsparklingeyes like her Littlest Petshop frog.  I offered to find another name we both liked, but Shaun finally settled on Charlie. 

Look, marriage is full of compromise, okay?  And truth be known, I'm a little "English Major" like my mom, and the way things roll off my tongue and how a name looks written on paper are very important to me.  Too important.  It's a little weird. 

But don't worry too much about Shaun. He's adapted by finding a nickname of his own choosing: Chuck.

I think Shaun might love Chuck more than our kids.  Don't tell them I said that.  But he comes home early to see Charlie and asks about Charlie at work.  He gives him special treats and takes him out happily into the dewy morning darkness.

Speaking of the kids, they are very, very pleased to join the ranks of dog-owning families.  "We have a dog now!"  They have said, as though they were deprived urchin street beggars before.  When my mom drove up their response was quiet awe.  Then they softly asked questions while petting him, like if he was really ours, going to stay with us?  They said, "he's so cute!"  And they said they liked his name.  You hear that, Shaun?  They LIKE it. 

Tonight, Shaun and Chuck- the dynamic duo- took a swim in the pool after the kids went to bed.  Well, Shaun took a swim.  Chuck tried his best to get back in the warm house where mama would rub his belly.  But Shaun made him swim laps across the entire pool just to be sure he could. 

See, Shaun is the man who comes home and plays rough with him and gives him swim lessons and obedience lessons and takes him out in the middle of the night when he whimpers.  I am the woman who rubs his belly and says, "good boy."  That's why he's at my feet right now.  It's for this same reason that the children- were they awake- would be in Shaun's lap right now, not mine.  (I am the woman who gives them swim lessons and obedience lessons and changes their diapers, and he is the man who rubs their heads and says "good boy/girl.")  I needed Charlie and I didn't even know it.  He's accomplishing a perfect balance in our home.

I don't know what I was thinking, assuming we were JUST buying a dog, though.  We were also buying dog toys, brushes, clippers, food, shampoo, bedding, and future vet visits.  And I should've thought/known that much.  But what I couldn't have known, and hadn't even thought to pray for, was a temperament like the one I fell in love with back in high school.  But God is so good because as I type this, Charles just scooted a bit closer, with a soft moan, in order to rest his chin on the top of my foot.   

He wants to be with us, near us, close to us.  He doesn't dart off, or roam the house.  Where we are, he is.  He is gentle and calm.  He can sleep in the middle of rambunctious kids and calamity.  He doesn't scare in the car or with new people or in thunderstorms.  He is very vocal, and makes funny sounds when he stretches and while he dreams.  He talks with his paws, as well.  He is a warm presence that makes a house a home. 

So, we are impulsive people.  Not a big surprise.  We got engaged at 19, married at 20, pregnant at 22... we make spontaneous decisions on the fly.  This used to bother me, embarrass me, but you know what?  I'm really starting to like that about us.  It's fun.  All of those impulsive, "irresponsible" decisions have resulted in my most favorite things about life; my most valued treasures.  God seems to shower our sprinting with grace and mercy because that's just Who He is.

I don't mean to get sappy, I know, eew, gag, reign yourself in a bit, Katie. But I love this dog... to the point where now I'm not sure we were ever officially a family without a dog, without Charlie.