Last night I though I would help Ben out and feed his hamster.
I'm such a good mommy to pitch in with his chores.
About thirty minutes later I heard him scream.
Apparently this good mommy didn't shut the cage door and the hamster was nowhere to be found.
We all ran upstairs in a panic and the first thing I noticed was Shorty (the dog) standing in the corner looking guilty.
I freaked. Had Shorty made a snack out of Ben's hamster?
Ben was so upset. He loves that rodent like a brother.
We moved beds, pulled out dressers and scoured toy boxes.
After about thirty minutes of complete chaos Chris found him hovered in the corner behind a chest of drawers.
I was saved.
I don't think I could have handled the guilt of Pooh's death on my conscience.
Chris made it a point to tease me about it the rest of the night.
I will never live it down.