We had a lovely time in Arkansas. The van and house still aren't unpacked, but the trip was awesome.
We got to visit with Aaron's parents, Hot Mandy (actually, Aunt Mandy but the boys call her Hot Mandy because, well, she's hott), our niece and Aaron's step-father's birth-mother.
Welcome to the 21st Century family vacation.
During one of our visits to the Wal-Marts in town (because that's how you talk when you're in Duggarland) we ran into some dogs from the Humane Society (via stopping in the PetsCo) and met a puppy. A puppy whom my inlaws dragged Aaron to meet. A puppy who was obsessed about all weekend despite a certain person (AARON) saying no, I don't want no dog (again, we were in Duggarland, we had to talk like that), that dog didn't bond with me, we're not ready for a dog, I ain't scoopin' no dog poop, I don't want a dog.
So yesterday we were headed home, 20 miles into the drive Aaron starts reminiscing about the dog and makes me turn around.
She sat on Aaron's lap for the six-plus hour drive home. Even though we had a crate for her in the van.
Because, you know, he didn't want no dog, the dog didn't bond with him, he's not ready for a dog, he ain't scoopin' no dog poop, he don't want a dog MY ASS.