Our Very Own Pavlov's Dog

You guys are familiar with Pavlov's Dog, right?  The whole conditioned response thing?

My husband was unfamiliar with the term, but once I referenced an Office episode which illustrated the concept, he realized he knew of it.

Speak their language, my friends.  Speak their language.


The Office - Pavlov's dog from Rauno Villberg on Vimeo.

Please watch the embedded video for reference and for your viewing pleasure.  It is delightful.

Anyways, a couple of months ago, on a Saturday morning when Hubs and I were particularly tired, and the kids were up and ready to party eat breakfast, Hubs decided to just bring Happy into our bedroom, plop him on our bed, turn on a video and give Happy some cheerios.

At the time, that seemed like a brilliant thing to do, given how tired we were.

On that particular day, Hubs just grabbed the closest DVD, which happened to be a Cookie Monster one.  It was wonderful.  Hubs and I could try wake up while still giving Happy some semblance of breakfast.

We liked the system so much that we did it the following few Saturdays.

Well, now any time Happy goes into our bedroom, he says, "coooooo-key" and turns the TV on, hands me the DVD remote to play the video, climbs onto our bed and requests cheerios.  In that order.

Every. Single. Time.

Multiple. Times. A. Day.

No video substitutions are allowed, nor are any snack substitutions.

It has to be Cookie Monster and it has to be Cheerios.

Exhibit A

Please note the green cover.  NO PLAID BLANKET that day!

And usually I am trying to get ready or put laundry away or something, so I oblige him.  The video is less than 20 minutes.

I have teased him saying that he is Pavlov's dog.

(Like he knows what I am talking about.)

(Or maybe he does.)

(He has taught himself the alphabet letters and their sounds. He knows how to work our tv better than I do. I am afraid I have taught him he has already taught himself everything I know.)

Exhibit B

Just today, we walked into our bedroom and before I even realized what happened, I had the cheerios in hand to give him.

I guess I am really the one who is Pavlov's dog, huh?