Because chaos isn’t chaos without random additions or subtractions: Sister-in-law’s cats had some kittens. Bee’s cats are prolific breeders, despite us begging her to take them to have their genitalia mutilated. They breed like rabbits, only cattier. So every six months, Bee’s friends avoid her like the plague, as she desperately attempts to hand out free kittens. (For most of Bee’s friends, if she was handing out free wine, it would be a totally different story- they’d be on her like a rash).
I spent the night at the maternity hospital/ Bee’s house last night with my three children. The children kept darting through to the garage to look at the kittens- tiny quivery things- very mushy-poster pretty, being only five weeks old.
Naturally, the talk soon turned to I want one daddy- we’ve avoided it before, pleading allergies. Ok, I’ll have to discuss it with Mom, I foolishly declared. So later, skyping their mother, (Neen: absent mom- on a business trip for ten weeks), as all functioning families do, I asked her what she thought, and she must be really missing the children, or picturing their joyful faces (the joy that fades beyond the first appearance of kitten stool)- she jumped at the idea.
She asked me about their colours, whether the children were sneezing, and of course, how old they are.
Nine, six, and nearly three, I said.
Poor guilt-ridden Neen is an easy target. I apologized.
I spent the night at the maternity hospital/ Bee’s house last night with my three children. The children kept darting through to the garage to look at the kittens- tiny quivery things- very mushy-poster pretty, being only five weeks old.
Naturally, the talk soon turned to I want one daddy- we’ve avoided it before, pleading allergies. Ok, I’ll have to discuss it with Mom, I foolishly declared. So later, skyping their mother, (Neen: absent mom- on a business trip for ten weeks), as all functioning families do, I asked her what she thought, and she must be really missing the children, or picturing their joyful faces (the joy that fades beyond the first appearance of kitten stool)- she jumped at the idea.
She asked me about their colours, whether the children were sneezing, and of course, how old they are.
Nine, six, and nearly three, I said.
Poor guilt-ridden Neen is an easy target. I apologized.
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