Typical boys, Sam and Pippin will complain about anything.

Because they鈥檙e dogs, they see Donna and me as their Higher Power, so whenever they have something to complain about, the blame is directed at us.

Well, Sam鈥檚 not actually a dog, he鈥檚 a poodle鈥� but dogs, poodles, teenagers, soccer fans 鈥� they鈥檙e all pretty much the same when it comes to complaining: pick a topic, any topic, and start fussing about it: the weather, the food, the visiting relatives, your team turns out to be only the fourth best in the entire world.

Today, it was the heat. Sam wanted to go out and play with his green duck 鈥� which is actually a frog, but鈥� don鈥檛 ask. Lately, all of his toys, except the bear, are all ducks. The glow-in-the-dark ball that he got for Christmas is now his 鈥渂all duck鈥�. The yellow rubber duck that looks almost like the green duck/frog is his 鈥測ellow duck鈥�. Only the Raggedy Ann mallard is just a 鈥渄uck鈥�.

Somehow, when we tried to teach him to fetch specific items to play with by name, the training went backwards.

And instead of us telling him which toy to bring, he now picks whichever 鈥渄uck鈥� he wants to play with on a given day, and we comply. Resistance is futile. Throw a different toy for him to catch, and he鈥檒l just let it bounce off his head鈥� and look at us with piteous contempt.

Pippin will chase a toy鈥� sometimes鈥� and then run right past it to find a place to dig.

Pippin is a digger. When it鈥檚 not too darned hot to dig, that is. Or when there鈥檚 rain 鈥� even a drizzle 鈥� and it鈥檚 not fit to go outside. His special brand of disdainful looks is nonchalant contempt.

Today, those looks of contempt were directed at us over our apparent inability 鈥� or unwillingness 鈥� to turn down the heat. Sure, it started with a simple request to lower the thermostat. Step outside, test the temperature, step back in. Wait a few minutes and step outside again to see if the mercury has dropped鈥� nope back inside. Plead with us to cool things down. Demand it.

And eventually鈥� that resignation to contempt.

Apparently, like the English soccer team, Donna and I aren鈥檛 perfect enough, and so, for the time being, we are worth nothing at all.