Too loud, too loud

My house is loud lately. (This is a blog post topic suggestion from Brian, who, I think, latched on to it simply because I had a small freak-out about it not too long ago.) Yes, it's loud. Add up a screaming, tantrum-throwing, 21-month-old child; a growling and barking, stubbornly angry, 8-year-old fart of a dog; and a whining, yipping, irritatingly toothy puppy; and you've got my house. As I told Brian, once four o'clock rolls around, I'm ready to tear my hair out, in addition to curbing an intense desire to lock myself in the bathroom to get away from the sounds of it all. But then, I just kinda smile at the ridiculousness of it all, and sit back: I allowed Oliver and Daisy to have their little doggy arguments all day. I hate that he gets bugged by her, but she'll never learn to leave him alone if he doesn't give her plenty of lessons. And as for Daisy's issues, I'm trying to improve on the art of selective hearing, so the whining isn't too bad, and also am picking her up every time I think of it, and putting her on the puppy pad to pee. I'll tell you, that kind of proactive thinking made for only a single accident on the carpet since 10 this morning. As for Sydney, well, don't we just have to deal with her in every way, shape and form; and with a smile? ... But what's nice is that right now, Syd's sleeping, Ollie's set-up camp on the chair, and Daisy's chewing on plastic keys. It's quiet, except for the sound of the Olympics, and as I think about it, it was an okay day.