I know, I know. I’m sure you’re all dying to hear how the Christmas Cats went over.
Kind of like a lead balloon, if I’m being completely honest.
While we were out-of-town, some Elves visited our house and left the little kitties in a crate covered in a Christmas blanket and tied with a big red bow. My husband jumped out of the car and ran in to set up in perfect video position while I stalled to get the kids out of the car.
Our daughter ran in the house, saw the cat house, and was so enthralled with the jingle bell toy on it, that she missed the crate entirely. Our son spotted it, tore off the blanket, looked inside, and informed our daughter that she received two cats. And proceeded to rush over to the train set that Santa left for him. Without even opening the door on the crate. So, our daughter came over, opened the door, and smiled. Sort of. I think. There were no shrieks of joy. Or jumping up and down.
But she did immediately ask if this meant we were getting rid of our beloved eight-year-old dog so that he wouldn’t chase her kitty. (I passed on the opportunity to point out that he’s been part of our family since before she and her brother were even a twinkle in my eye … I’ll save that lecture for another day.)
Needless to say, it was not the fireworks I was expecting. But my children have since come around. Now that the kittens are out of their crate and terrorizing my house, they are happy. They’ve leaped into my arms several times (my children, not the smelly cats), to give me hugs and kisses and thank me for getting them the baby kitties–the BEST present EVER, they claim.
Non-material gifts. We’re still working on fine-tuning this concept. But for now, I have happy children. And I stuck to my principles.
You win some … you lose some.