It was crazy hour in the house. The kids were running around doing who knows what while I was trying to make dinner and counting down the minutes until Jeff got home.
I don’t know what it is about 5pm but that time hits and it’s like everyone took a hit off the crazy-pipe.
“Alright!” I said to the kitchen as one of the kids raced past me wearing one of my bras on their head, “What in the world is that?”
I threw the towel on the counter, grabbed the bra off the child’s head and went in search of this strange noise.
I walked into the living room but only found Hayden hiding in the corner playing the DS.
“No electronics,” I hissed, “go play outside, it’s a beautiful day.”
Hayden slammed the DS in my waiting hand and walked out the front door slamming it behind him.
“Don’t slam…” I started to yell but stopped because it was too late. They either leave the door wide open or slam it. There just is no happy medium.
The strange noise brought me back to the task at hand.
And as soon as I turned around, I saw it.
When I look at my kids and think about what they will be when they grow up, I have some ideas but I am not really sure unless we are talking about Quinn.
I think that he is going to do something with animals.
I have visions of him following in his uncle’s footsteps and becoming a vet. Quinn has a soft spot in his heart for animals. He is tender and kind and likes being around them.
His favorite section at the library is the one with books all about animals and if given the choice, he would have our house full of pets.
So it doesn’t really need to be said that Quinn loves our cats.
Or so I thought.
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” I screeched as I ran into the den.
“Mommy!” Quinn said in his annoyed but startled voice that he uses when I catch him doing something that he is not supposed to.
“Quinn, stop it! Let that cat go” I said sternly.
“But mommy,” Quinn whined, “I was giving Merry a ride. He likes it when I spin him.”
Quinn whipped the chair around again.
“No!” I said to Quinn and I reached down to stop the chair.
Merry jumped down and immediately fell over. I figured being spun on a chair had the same affect on the cat as spinning bent over with your head on a baseball bit does to people. You are so dizzy, the only thing to do it kiss the pavement.
“Meeeeeooowww!” the cat said as if he was trying to chastise Quinn.
“Quinn, cats don’t like to be spun around on chairs. That is mean,” I said, “If you want Merry to continue to be your friend then you need to not do those things.”
Quinn hung his head down and mumbled, “Sorry, mommy. Sorry Merry.”
“Also, getting Merry really dizzy could make him sick to his tummy and no one wants to clean up cat vomit,” I said.
“Ok, mommy.” Quinn said.
I pushed the chair back under the desk in the den, shooed Quinn outside with his siblings and returned to the kitchen to finish dinner.
I was just about to open the oven when I heard a horrified scream come from Claire’s room.
“MOM!” she yelled.
I stopped what I was going and raced up the stairs.
“Merry, just puked on my bed!” I said horrified.
“Of course, he did.” I sighed.
*no cats were harmed in the making of the photo collage… a ‘replacement cat’ aka stuffed animal was used for spinning