Gettin' off my high horse

So, Mick and I had a little "domestic" (thanks for the coined term neighbors Jan and Keith) this morning as I set off the alarm feeding the dogs-who were barking incessantly to be fed-and I, of course, was the only one to hear or, more correctly, to be disturbed by their vociferous barks. Our domestic wasn't about the alarm going off, but the fact that I fed the dogs separately (so they wouldn't fight over the food) and Lily got out of their room and managed to piddle (ok-she's nearly 80 pounds) by the back basement room door (Thank you God for porcelain tile floors and not carpet). I threw one of my hissy fits and went into a tirade about how I'm the only one who has to clean up all the yack, doo-doo and other nasty excrements from these dogs. Everyone benefits from the love-but only me, myself and I get the nastiness. So...Mick, in the process of our heated diatribe decides to tell me to "get off my high horse."  Well...suffice it to say that didn't go over very well with "da Momma." And Da Momma made sure the rest of the morning didn't go over well for anyone from that moment on. 

The funny of all of this is that Ian, the quick-witted soul that he is, took it upon himself to bring the moment back up later in the afternoon. We were HSing a  science lab at a friend's house who had an outdoor horse shaped tire swing. (You probably know where this story is going now). Ian jumps up on it and hollers out," Look, Mom! I'm up on my high horse!"

That son of mine. Always knows how to make me smile!