Jeff Saves the Day

I really wanted the title of this post to be Puppies and Pee but that didn't sound very ladylike.

But then I remembered that I'm usually not very ladylike so I should have just used it anyway.

Next time.

So, onward we go.  Yesterday, Jeff redirected fate twice.  As in two times. That's quite an accomplishment for someone who is chronically tired due to endless nights of rib kicking and nocturnal head butting from a certain toddler that roams these parts.  A certain toddler that takes full advantage of our lack of personal space and insists on sleeping in between Jeff and I. Jeff was exhausted and worn out and still managed to assist in 2 potentially catastrophic events.

{We pride ourselves in being overachievers.}

First assist.  He was driving on Shepard Lane - a busy street several miles from our house. Because of local businesses and the freeway on/off ramps, it gets quite hairy during rush hour. While driving home, he noticed a young girl darting in and out of traffic chasing her little white dog.  She had tunnel vision - completely oblivious to her surroundings - and was only aware of her need to capture her little Toto.  Jeff could see the blaring potential danger of the situation. Because he's a dad and just a really great guy, he pulled over and told her to stay put on the side of the road. He then proceeded to play Frogger with traffic and ran across the street to get her dog.  

Argyle sweater, khaki pants, and a fluffy white mut.  Now that would have made an excellent 80's arcade game.

2nd assist.  Because of our miniature dwellings, our 3 boys share one room. Above mentioned toddler doesn't like his crib.  Every night, we let him cry it out for an hour until he finally zonks out from sheer exhaustion.  The 2 older boys fall asleep in our bed so that they can do just that - sleep.  It's not a good situation especially since Shaw will flip on the light in the middle of the night and wake them up.  That's when he's usually rescued to come downstairs with us and the sleepless saga continues.

{Now you better understand the eye baggage, huh?}

So, last night, Shaw cries it out and the boys fall asleep in our room.  When we turned in for the night, Jeff dragged the boys out of our bed and pushed them in the direction of their bedroom. Because Jeff is a recovered childhood sleepwalker himself, he knows not to trust them to make it all the way upstairs on the first try.  His instincts are 20/20 - he found Brittan,  in the kitchen, garbage can pulled out of the cupboard, his personal firearm locked and loaded and ready to discharge.  IN THE GARBAGE CAN!  IN MY KITCHEN!

Did I mention it was MY KITCHEN GARBAGE CAN? 

Luckily, Jeff caught Britt before his shooter was shot, had him reholster it, and directed him towards the bathroom.

Jeffrey Jay.  The man.  The legend.  The urinal director.

You can hang up your cape for a day or two, honey.

Post note:  I really should work on being more ladylike.  Perhaps "The Pooch and A Potential Puddle of Piddle" would be better?