I was woken up at 3 a.m. this morning. For one horrible moment I believed I'd aged ten years, birthed three half-grown kids, and that somehow Christmas had been moved to late May. It was horrible! I was groggy! Had trouble getting to sleep in the first place!
All three fuzzers rampaged from room to room, yowling and crying piteously and running into walls, crashing over furniture. Then one of them discovered me on the bed, snuffled my hairline, rrroowled, and before I knew it, all three were on the bed. Nudging my elbows, patting my toes, biting my toes, walking across my belly.
For crying out loud, kids, go back to bed! No one's opening any presents until 6!
Maybe Wicket was hungry and extra-ornery? He's the only one with enough bulk to knock a giant bean bag from teh couch onto the floor. sheesh
"There are no ordinary cats." -Colette
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May
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- we had joy...
- claws!
- synesthesia
- go back to bed!
- lust
- reclamation
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- exercise & Wicket (or "eW!") - the red series
- Cardinals fans
- and now you know where new cell phones come from
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- while i'm talking to you
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- origin stories
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- four of the five things i can't live without
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4 comments:
Oh, poor Christy! Babes! Be good! Be sweet! (By which I mean, of course, go to sleep - a snoozy "kitten" is automatically good and sweet...)
This morning we had mucho snoozies- because I'm home and want to watch them at play, you understand.
Terrible, terrible kittehs. Mine often mix it up in the wee hours. I blame it on The Sproinger, aka Gojira, who is still, at a lithe 6+ lbs, a kitten at heart and waist. Unfortunately, her kittenishness manifests itself in midnight attacks on my slippurrrz. Or her brother's behind. Warm, furry, you get her drift.
Midnight Attacks on Her Brother's Behind...this smells like a fantastic kids' book!
Meera and Kai have delegated all mid-night disturbances to Wicket. it's a heavy responsibility to wake me every two hours, to nuzzle my hairline and pat my elbows, but he bears it well.
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