Suck-up, er Pepe

You see what I mean? This one's crafty...

Once a mother, always a mother

So, we were adopted by a then-pregnant cat a little over two months ago. The result being that we are now the home to Mama (first named NoKitty, now Cleo) and her four kittlens. The resulting result being that we now live in chaos. (Four-year-old+kittens=much ado about much.) We've decided to keep Cleo (I figure she deserves it for sussing out the right suckers) and one of the kittens (the one nicknamed Pepe because of the little white skunk stripe on his forehead), who is the smartest of the bunch because he started sucking up to T at around, oh, week five.

ANYway. Now it's time to find homes for the other three. I thought I had sure things lined up with two co-workers, but they're starting to back away, so I followed someone's advice and posted the "free to good home" listing on Craigslist a few hours ago. I've already heard from two people. You'd think I would be relieved, yes? No; I'm freaking out, assuming that they only want the kitties for nefarious purposes. One of them is a vet med student who's specializing in infectious disease--surely, she wants to use one for research, yes? And another has a pit bull (yes, I'm Googling these people), which makes me nervous--I can't get rid of the mental image of one of the kittens being terrorized by it.

Le sigh. Giving a shit is such a pain in the ass. I will let you know when KittenGate 2009 is successfully (we pray) resolved.

The beginning of the era of potty humor?

Or at least gas-related comedy. This morning, I heard A laughing in the bathroom. I asked what was so funny and she giggled, "I farted and it scared the kitten so he ran away." 

Why did I assume that potty humor was the domain of the XYers? Whatever; I laughed, too.

Touche...

Scene: Last night, after dinner.

Me: A, which part of "you're not allowed to pick up the kittens" did you not understand?

A [without missing a beat]: The middle part.

T: She's got you there.

Which, yes. Boy, the teenage years are going to be hell, aren't they?

Anatomy 101

Tonight, in the bathtub, A was passing gas with gusto. I asked if we should call her Walter (a la the farting dog) and she said, "No, I just have gas." I said, "You sure have a lot of it." And she said, "That's because my butt door keeps opening."

I know. Totally bizarre and inappropriate. But damn it, did T and I laugh...

The truth, and nothing but the truth

Scene: Tonight, A's bedroom at bedtime, with me trying to tuck in A (or, as she is known in this parts, the Empress of Bedtime Stalling Tactics) :

A [smiles] I know who has a birthday this month.
Me [playing along]: Who?
A: You do, Mommy!
Me: That's right, I do! How old am I going to be? [now, I know you're going to say that I set myself up here, but she usually answers "five" or, if she's put some thought into it, "ten"]
A: I don't know.
Me: Why don't you guess?
A: Why don't you tell me?
Me: Okay. I'm going to be 37.
A [after a brief silence]: Wow. That's a lot.

That it is, kid. That it is.