Sibling Rivalry

    I've been taking Clara and Wilbur out for comparatively long walks (we had been only walking about a half-mile.  Now we're up to a mile.  Which, for Wilbur, equates to ten miles, because of the stubbiness of his legs).

    Yesterday I heard a litany of complaints coming from the stroller about halfway through our walk.  It sounded like a just-hatched, ravenous baby T-Rex.

    "Are you hungry, Love-y?" I asked.

    "Hes, Mommy.  Me, me, eat, Mommy, Mommy, hes."

    "When we get home, I will make you lunch.  What do you want?  Do you want noodles?"

    "Hes. Hes, hes."

    At that point we had to take one of our frequent rests so Wilbur could sniff around in the weeds and recoup some vigor. Getting him going again was a massive feat.

    "Come on, Bub.  Yeeeesss, you're such a good boy.  Such a handsome dog. That's right.  Come on, boy. When we get home, I will fill your dish with cold water.  Won't that taste good? Mmmmmm..."  

     "Mommy!  No! Me! 'Oodles! 'Oodles 'Oodles 'Oodles!"

     "Of course! I will make you noodles with some cheese when we get home.  I was just telling Wilbur that I would put cold water in his dish.  Wilbur likes cold water."

     "No! Me-unt 'oodles."
     "How about some peas and corn, too?"
     "No.  Mmmmm no no unt...pease. 'Oodles! 'Oodles."
     "No peas and corn, huh.  How about some balls (prunes)?"
     The baby T-Rex made a sound like teeth scraping against metal.
     "No balls either.  Just noodles."
     "Hes."