So far, Max has proven himself to be a patient, calm, and generally delightful addition to the family, kicking up a fuss only when hungry or very lonely ( if a mean-spirited and thoughtless parent should attempt to put him in his bed when he is in a sociable frame of mind). Pushed over the edge by an overabundance of Christmas Tree posing, however, Max is currently in the middle of his first inexplicable cranky fit. He is not hungry, he is not wet, he does not wish to cuddle, nor is he interested in playing. Ian is trying to soothe him with the age-old cure of some Otis Redding and slow-dancing. It seems to be working. I suspect that Max wants us to be grateful for his usual sunny disposition, and is giving us a taste of the crab for contrast. I, for one, get the point.
1 comment:
Otis Redding always worked on me when Ian and I were rooming and I had crabby days.
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