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Good Dog, Carl : A Classic Board Book

The favorite original story about Carl the responsible rottweiler is presented in a sturdy board book edition and follows the adventures shared by the babysitting dog and his infant mistress.

Alexandra Day's modern classic Good Dog Carl has sold more than 200,000 copies, captivating countless readers with the lovable rottweiler Carl, endearing illustrations, and the tale's surprising silliness. The book begins with the mother saying, "Look after the baby, Carl. I'll be back shortly." Let the adventure begin! Carl looks out the window to make sure Mom is gone. Once the coast is clear, the baby crawls out of the crib and onto Carl's back. First stop? Mom's bed. Second stop? The top of the dresser where powder puffs are sported as hats. The infant--now in Carl's capable paws--slides down the laundry chute, swims in the fish tank, dances, raids the refrigerator, and makes a huge mess. Carl dutifully bathes the baby, cleans up the chaos, puts his charge back in the crib, and plays it cool when Mom comes home. "Good dog, Carl!" she says upon her return. A sweet, subtly absurd picture book that jubilantly illustrates the old adage, "When the cat's away, the mice will play." (Picture book)

DAY NINETEEN This pic is of Carys enjoying her tucker.

2.00am-ish I hear a dull thud, I later find out that Carys has decanted her cow high up into the air and it lands 8 feet away, she did this while quietly suckling without even opening her eyes. Athletical!

3.30am Carys wakes with a wail and is up for the day, oh no! sleeping is turning very pear shaped, it’s my own fault, too many cheapo Morrisons pears from Morrisons. Quite frustrating especially as I bargained with Sarah that I have a lie in tomorrow and I raise Carys this morning, I think I’ve got the rough side of the deal here. We watch the Election Special on the telly, nothing spectacular, but Mr Dimbleby does a great job of calming Carys’ screams, I suppose he is a grand fatherly type now isn’t he?

5.00am I breakfast.

6.00am Then it’s onto the kids shows, I now feel comfort when I hear the Ballamory theme tune and the annoying Scots lady is now my dawn friend, much better than sarah Kennedy on BBC Radio 2. Carys is beginning to show signs of boredom, I am also bored but am not in the mood for entertaining. I make myself a strong coffee and perk up, we dance together, Carys’ moves are coming on strong now, lots of uncoordianted wriggling, flapping, bouncing and grinning. Meanwhile my moves have deteriorated a lot I only dance at weddings now, and I seem to only go to one or two a year now.

6.30am I am getting acute stomach cramps, was the coffee to strong? Did I eat some strange food? Have I got worms? An intestinal bug that I may pass onto Carys and kill her?

6.32am I sit on the lav and all hell breaks loose, ah cured! Just a simple case of the toots.

6.45am As I am preparing porridge and apple mush a hear a dull thud upstairs, Sarah runs down and informs me that Carys has dived head first off the bed and onto the floor. Carys is wailing tears of joy, overcome with joyful emotion about her new feat no doubt.

7.00am Sarah wakes from her luxurious lie in and informs me that Carys’ head smells of my ‘Organic Sleep Remedy’, my reason for trading a lie in tomorrow is that I’m off to Twickers for the rugger with three schoolboy friends from Wales and I need to conserve my energy for 10 hours of drinking beer. We have tickets for the hospitality tent and I hope the beer will be cold and cheap.

8.00am Carys naps until 11.55am – ow, argh, grrr! Surely a World record for a nap, when does a ‘nap’ become ‘sleep’? Sarah takes 90 winks and I have 30 winks.

1.00pm We go into Holborn, in the City for a stroll and lie on the grass in a churchyard, St Andrews church is over a thousand years old. On the train into Blackfriars station Carys pulls a Yardie’s flat cap from his head who is sitting in the seat in front, lucky he weren’t a Sikh. She is pointing all the way out of the window, her eyes darting back and forth like she’s watching the tennis.

3.00pm We meet up with Abigail in Farinas cafe on Lether Lane, we chat until 4pm and then go home on the train, another animated journey of shouting, pointing and falling over.

please note to those without kids. if you ever have kids and they end up being SUPER DUPER QUIET that is a BIG FLASHING RED LIGHT to something is up. i should know this by now but obviously i haven't learned my lesson.

ashton likes to poop in peace. so he shuts his bedroom door. i assumed that was what was going on. but after a few mins i called out to ashton to make sure he's okay. he responded but not in his "i'm pooping" way. i waited a few more mins and STILL no noise so i once again call out to him and he gives me the same response. "hmm", i thought. i should probably check on him. it's JUST too quiet. even when he poops i can hear him talking to himself and playing with toys.

i can tell you what i wasn't expecting.. ashton.. sitting on top of the changing table (!!!) covered in baby oil (!!!! X2). everything covered in baby oil (!!!!! X3). the mirror. the cover HIS CLOTHES it was EVERYWHERE. and in his lap a empty baby oil bottle sits. all while he's happily smearing oil everywhere. he's never once tried climbing up his table so i'm rather shocked he was able to accomplish it. i scold him, "no climbing blah blah blah.. very dangerous blah blah blah". undress him because his clothes are NOW ruined. baby oil stains! bad! and go off to gather some cleaning supplies because i have one hell of a job ahead of me. i come back and ashton is AGAIN SITTING ON TOP OF THE DAMN changing table. how the heck? so i pull him down (again) scold him (again). he gives me that super cute i'm so adorable smile and climbs right back up to the top (this time i had my camera). great. that's all i can say. wonder how long till he can climb out of the crib.

ps. even though it's a triptych i am keeping it for my 365 because i have had a rough day with mr. grumpy bawly pants :oD