Oliver and I took a three hour nap this afternoon. I noticed, as he stretched across my neck and by an ear, that he’s a little wheezy.
So, before dinner time treats, I attempted to get a benadryl down his throat. I failed.
In case you’ve never had to take one, let me tell you benadryl are disgusting. They are awful if you swallow they whole. They are even worse if you have to taste the inside. Oliver’s are quartered.
So the pill went in. It came back out. It left a swath of icky taste in his throat and mouth.
I tried desperately to get him to eat some treats to get rid of the taste, but he couldn’t trust me.
Obi didn’t trust me either. He left his treats on the floor and went to check on his brother, hiding in the breakfast nook and gagging on grossness.
Eventually, Obi ate one of Oli’s treats. Not bad. So Oliver had one. Obi tried another. Still okay. So Oli had another.
Then they returned to the kitchen to eat that stack of treats.
Meanwhile, The Boy and I took our dinners to the living room. Soon after Kitten Thunder followed. To tell The Boy that he was their favorite. In fact, he was their only. Who is this Girl of which he spoke? They had no Girl. Never heard of her.
After dinner, I put out more treats.
Oh! That Girl.
So… What will we call the baby? I mean, we have a name for him of course. But what goes with The Boy and The Girl as we introduce this new plot line to the blog? Please give me your ideas!