So much to post, so little time....

First of all, hi! How ya been? Busy but good, here. Thanks for askin'!

A ton of blogworthy stuff has happened, and I can't remember all of it, but here goes what I do remember...

So you remember not too long ago, around the end of May, the post about E's new cat? Well, somehow, in his mind, the boy had it rationalized that since Graham Cracker (Cracka A. Craka, in a *Chris Rock voice,* in my mind) is a full grown cat, then obviously he still had a kitten coming to him. So I come home one day and he's brought this little ball of black fur with claws and teeth into the house. He shoves the kitten into my face and announces:

"I named him Blackie Chan!"


Oh really? Did you, now?

"What? You named him what?"
"Blackie Chan. Can I keep him?"
"Ummm... okay... and you came up with this all on your own?"
"Yeah. He's black and white*, just like me. And he has kung fu man moves, like Jackie Chan."



Okay...*look of profound resignation* Coz you see what I did to myself there? The stammering I did, trynna come to grips with my 7 year old naming a black kitten "Blackie Chan," I used the word "okay".... which naturally was interpreted as consent.

"Why Mom? Did I say something bad?"
"No... just nevermind. Wait... did you say the kitten has 'kung fu man moves?'"
"Yeah!! It's awesome, watch!"

Then the child proceeds to play with said kitten until he did indeed display some wicked cool kung fu action poses!

Needless to say, we now have two cats.  Cracka isn't all that fond of Blackie Chan yet, but that's the way it goes with cats. They're learning to coexist. It's a process. And please do not confuse this with social commentary. I promise there is no correlation between house cats and the state of "post-racial" society in general! I'm ok with that if you are.

What I can't come to terms with is the fact that my son chose two so appropriate yet inappropriate names for these cats....

*mama cat was black, daddy cat was white, so no, E, not JUST like you, the same but opposite.

The Biggest Kitten I've Ever Seen

So first we must establish that I am not above bribing my child.  Not at all.  I don't have a problem in the world with dangling a carrot in front of his face.  Some people try to call this type of parental Jedi Mind Trick by more acceptable euphamisms... positive reinforcement, goal setting, that kinda crap.  I say bullsnit!  Call it what it is, I say!  It's a bribe.  Plain and simple.  And I'm totally ok with that.  It works.


Now that we have established that I openly and unashamedly bribe the boy, we can get on with the rest of the story.


The boy got hit most severely with spring fever.  So the last couple of months of school turned into a challenge to his ability to sit still.  This resulted in his "turning cards" on a couple of occasions.  Mama doesn't like that.  At first, I tried the "hit him where he lives" method.  Taking away his Wii, his bike, not letting him go play with his buddies.  That was moderately successful, but in the long run, it made me feel like I was always coming in after the fact and being the bad guy.  I didn't like that.  So, I reverted to my favorite form of behavior modification... I told him if he could get through the last month of school without turning any cards, he could get a kitten.  (This is where I refer you to a previous post for further illumination.)


Well, I reminded him what he was working toward every day.  I also told him clearly what his responsibilities would be if he managed to get a kitten.  And he did it.  He pulled it off.  So I had to hold up my end of the deal and produce the goods... well, the kitten.


Now, I might hate that damb ASPCA commercial, but I do agree that there isn't any better place to find a new pet than a shelter or rescue center.  So off we went.  As expected, there was plenty of oooh-ing and aaahh-ing over the baby kitties.  Petting and holding and playing and general cuteness, allathat there... But there were also adult cats that he made over.  So after an hour or more, I finally asked which one he wanted to take home.  I really expected him to choose this little black and white ball of fluff with a really sweet face.
But much to my surprise, he pointed down at his feet.  "I want this one, Mama."


An adult cat.  A fat, snuggly adult cat.  "She likes me.  She wants to be my cat."  How do you argue with that?
The man who runs the shelter asked, "What are ya gonna call her?"  Without hesitation, E answered, "GramCrackers."


Yeah, I don't get it either, but it amuses me.  I like to call her Cracka A. Craka in a *Chris Rock voice*.  I've been quit by at least 3 of my friends over that one.  Mostly we just call her Crackers.  Considering this is the same child who named our rat terrier Roger, I'm actually kinda ok with the name.


Anyway... Meet the big "kitten."  

Now, I have the rest of the summer to figure out what I'm gonna use to bribe him next school year....