So I walked into Chicken’s room while she was reading this morning in order to molest her cat– “I don’t like you, kitty. I don’t like you at all… Garlic and butter…that’s the only way you’re good…” (Don’t ask me why I started to say this, but it’s my little kitty ritual, usually said while I pet him and get in his face.)
“Mom, stop picking on my cat!”
“I’m not picking on your cat, I’m macking on your cat!”
“Well get away from him, you old cougar, he’s mine!!!” smack “Hey—why’d you do that!”
“If you’re going to call your mom a cougar you’d better make sure your big butt isn’t right there to smack!”
“Go away, I’m reading one of your dirty books and I just got to the good part.”
“Great—I’m gonna go cook and eat your cat!”
“He’ll kill you first, now get!”
“Here, kitty kitty… I’ve got some garlic for you, you big furry hat-to-be…”
In case anyone wonders what it’s like to have a fourteen year old? I think it only works when that’s your emotional age anyway.
