Music in Kabul

I think Jen was attempting a little music education with Teddy so that he can catch up to Sam. Sam is learning quite a bit at his new school. He drops names like Peer Gynt and Thelonious Monk and Carmina Burana, like they are the new Elmo. Just the other day he said, "Mommy, do you know what music we play at Halloween? Danse Macabre." Uhhh, yeah. But after a few minutes of the insipid Thomas the Train melody, it was clear that Sam was not on board with Teddy's lessons, opting instead to make the playroom sound like the family had relocated to Kabul. 

Grip Strength

It's good that Jen is training Teddy to have good mouth control and jaw grip strength. We need these things in the wild. Why, just this morning, Teddy had a chance to use his skills on a bird that was so distracted by the sun that it flew straight into our front window and died. (They don't say "bird-brained" for nothing.) Jen wouldn't let Teddy out of the house, though, so he couldn't show how he could not only gingerly pick the bird up in his mouth, but also smash all its wee bones with his teeth. Too bad. 

Speaking of farms

There are a couple of things that happen to dogs that chew on shoes: (1) They are hit with a rolled up newspaper. (2) They are squirted with a water bottle. (3) "NO!" is yelled as they are scruffed and shaken.  When these measures of discipline fail, said canine usually goes to live with cousins on a farm, where no one wears shoes, I guess. 

I'm just saying that Teddy might be in need of a little discipline. 

Buy the Farm

Sam: Mommy, we can get a little dog at our house named Juno and then Rufus can go back to his house.

Jen: But this is Rufus's house too. Would you like him to go back to the farm?

Sam: Yes. He can go, and we can get a dog like Juno.

The backstory is that some family came up from Olympia and brought a puppy. I, naturally, made myself scarce - not because of the dog, which probably weighed a pound; rather, I had some appointments to keep in the neighborhood, and a cat can only handle so many kids (read:tail-pullers) in his yard.  Like, none. 

So Sam was enamored of the dog, fine. So he used a high-pitched, cute, puppy-talk voice that one never hears used with cats. Also fine. But let me just say that I am fully aware that when animals - usually dogs - go to live with cousins on "a farm," or when someone "buys the farm," that these are euphemisms for putting an animal down. Which is, in itself, a euphemism for euthanasia, which is not a city in the Orient, but rather, Death. I am an urban cat! I will not go to a farm! 

I'm sure this puppy-spell that was cast over my Sam will disappear soon. If not, Teddy is definitely on my side and is becoming quite scrappy himself. He will fight tooth and nail for me to stay. I'm not worried.  

Where's Rufus?

Teddy doesn't like being inside what Jen refers to as the "sit-and-spin," so he plays on the outside. Sort of defeats the purpose of having one, since you use it as a safe place to put a child so that you can do things like visit the litter box, if you know what I mean. Teddy also seems confused by his shape sorters. He would really like the shapes to neatly fall back out of their respective hollows. Silly. Sometimes, he grabs a shape through a hole and tries to get it out while holding it in his fist. I do believe that is a classic experiment involving monkeys: Will they know to release the object in order to get their hand out? 

Ridiculously Long Video

I don't know who likes to watch these. It's not as if it's a video of me hunting a rat - that would be entertaining! I don't like to brag, but there are at least five blood and organ stains on the front patio from my kills. No mean feat. Mien feet? 

Noise

There is a lot of it when you live with two children. 

Both Sam and Teddy love that piano. Sam calls it a "peeneeno." At least he is somewhat trained thus far. He knows, for example, that we don't hit the keys and we don't play with our feet.