I can’t be sure, but I think I may have sold my soul this morning … or maybe my husband did that for me. It’s all a bit of a blur, but the net-net is that we’re getting our children kitten(s) for Christmas.
If you know me, you can stop laughing now. I’ve never exactly been a fan of the feline persuasion. I’m still not.
But our daughter is.
Here’s how it went down … this morning, we were out and about and had a few minutes to spare before the Christmas Parade started, so we wandered into the pet store to take a look at the Guinea Pigs. They’re cute and cuddly, right? And there in the middle of the entry way was a cage full of playful, fuzzy, adorable little kittens. (Aaaaa-choooooo! … I’m wishing.)
Our daughter is fixated on them.
I don’t even stop … I just keep going to look at the lizards. I even take a gander at a tarantula. Just for fun. But there she is with her face all aglow. Laughing and reaching in the cage to get her fingers on them. One wraps its claws around her little finger and she doesn’t even wince. “Are his claws sharp?” I ask her. “No” she tells me with big wide eyes that tell me she’s lying to my face.
Hey–look! There are bunnies here.
She’s still standing there. Now the sales lady has come over to tell us that the kitties have five more days in quarantine before they can leave the pet store. Did you hear that, honey? We can’t buy these kitties. They can’t leave the pet store. Bummer. Then the sales lady comes back to clarify … “you could buy them today and we’ll hold them for you for five days,” she says. If daggers could literally shoot from my eyes, that woman would no longer be among the living. So helpful, she was. “Momma, we can buy them today!” my daughter begs of me …
To make a long story short, I play the allergy card and we finally get out of the store. And when I say get out of the store, I mean I picked my daughter up and carried her out of the store while the biggest, saddest crocodile tears welled up in her eyes and she cried the saddest cry I’ve ever heard. She wasn’t throwing a fit because she didn’t get her way. This was not a spoiled-brat cry. This was the saddest little four-year-old broken heart cry that I’ve ever heard.
So, while I loaded the kids in the car–as all cold, heartless mothers do–my husband lingered a bit longer in the store. When he emerged, he informed me that we are now the proud owners of not one, but TWO little kittens. Merry Christmas to me! What am I going to do with cats? I’ve never had cats. I don’t know anything about them. Except that we have personality conflicts. Do I have a heart of stone?
I guess they’re not material objects. So … they have that going for them. I guess. But if we continue on this path, we’ll have our own personal zoo by this time next year.
Now … where did I set that Egg Nog?