Do you know where the phrase dog-tired comes from? It’s an old tale about Alfred the Great, his sons, and his hunting dogs. First, you should know that apparently Alfred had two sons, Edwin and Athelbrod. Poor Athelbrod, I mean, he must’ve taken some serious teasing in school over that name. Anyway, Edwin and Athelbrod would compete when gathering up all of these many hunting dogs after a big hunt. Whichever son could catch more of the hounds would earn a place at his father’s right hand at the dinner table that evening. The chase would leave the winner “dog-tired,” but happy to have won the honor.
You may wonder how I know this. Well, it’s because I am. Dog-tired, I mean. And, when I read the origin of this phrase, I couldn’t help but laugh. Because being the mother of three kids feels very much like spending a day chasing a bunch of wild, hyped-from-the-hunt, bouncing bloodhounds. And it sounds about the same, too.
So, tonight I sleep. And, maybe tomorrow I’ll have something brilliant for you. Or maybe I’ll have my eyes propped open with toothpicks. Whichever.