Baa!

When I'm at work I feel productive. Patients flit in and out of my consulting room; every moment is busy and I leave feeling like I've achieved something.

When I'm at home I often feel like I've achieved nothing very much at all.

Take this morning: the littlest Grant and I have baked rolls for tonight's supper and a spiced tea bread for slightly larger Grant and big Grant as an afternoon snack.

We've indulged in a spot of vacuuming and we've bathed the dog and eaten lunch. Now littlest Grant is snoozing and I'm quickly uploading a blip after proofing and editing a couple of articles for my second little business. Written down like that it actually sounds quite good so why do I feel like I've accomplished very little indeed?

As for bathing the dog...sheesh...it's a job I don't relish but I don't like 'dog-smell' either so it's a necessary evil. Archie likes being bathed about as much as I like bathing him so the experience is mutually endured. The only member of the family who enjoys bathing Archie is Noah. He was pinging off the bathroom walls with excitement. The only problem is he wanted to help. I stupidly said, 'Go fetch your little stool,' which he obligingly did. Then he climbed on, stood on tiptoe, leaned over and fell in head first.

Dear reader, the chaos that ensued was unbelievable. I had to let go of the dog to haul Noah out. The dog took this as a sign that his ordeal was over and he could shake. Who knew that one small short-coated (after his recent haircut) dog could hold such a large volume of water. I looked like I'd been for a swim...fully dressed, so did Noah (who to be fair *had* been for a swim fully dressed). Of course I shrieked at the sudden deluge, which scared the dog, who saw his chance and leaped from the bath. It also scared Noah, who OPENED THE BATHROOM DOOR to get out and was promptly trampled underfoot by the dog, even more desperate to escape than he was.

The dog then set about drying himself off on the landing carpet, leaving a trail of soapsuds behind him. I grabbed him and dumped him unceremoniously back in the bath raining VBWs (that's Grant-speak for 'very bad words') down upon his fuzzy and still soapy little head.

Half an hour later and we were all dry and changed and Noah was lying peacefully on the landing playing with his farm shape-cum-jigsaw type toy thing. The correct name for those things always escapes me.

I love how he does it all correctly if I'm watching him, making the accompanying sound for the animal. if I'm not watching him he makes the *wrong* sound and tries to put the animal in the wrong hole. If I dare to continue to ignore him he cycles through all the *wrong* sounds, getting progressively louder until I turn to look at him...then he grins and looks at me as if to say, 'What do you reckon then?' Only when I say, 'Oh NO! That's not a [insert name of animal],' does he grin and revert to putting the animals back in the right holes. He invented this variation on the game which can go on for ages...twitch.

So I haven't been to work today and ergo have not actually done much...so why do I feel completely cream-crackered?