My daughter is singing "Hey Diddle Diddle" this morning. Loudly. Repeatedly. At 7:54 am. We've been up for over two hours. My son keeps trying to climb our 5 foot high cat tree like he's in Tibet searching for the secret of life. At the mountain top awaits a large (fat) cat who's answer to "why are we here?" is a fist full of death. Claws like scimitars. Probably tipped with poison. My daughter bellows a report of the morning's goings on up to my just rising wife. She yells back, "Is daddy taping it?" I'm not.
Last night we hung curtains. During this seemingly mundane domestic exercise, I fell through a small kitty condo. I was standing on it to hang the last of the curtains. The top gave way and I plunged through it. Very Laurel and Hardy. I'm playing both parts. Where was my step ladder? 3 feet to the right. But the kitty condo was right there.
It was worth it though. I took a thin cat bed and placed it over the hole. Kitty booby trap. I waited. And waited. And waited. Then, the large (fat) cat mentioned above approached. She leapt with a corpulent grace, like a Hippo with prima ballerina aspirations, onto the cat bed. Her fat kitty ass crashed through the cat bed. Sheer panic painted her kitty features. She quickly scrabbled for purchase. She looked so frigging surprised. I laughed and clapped. I was sincerely delighted. It's like I'm seven. Of course, I did the same thing to my self, where as it took a cleverly imagined trap to bring the cat down to my level. It's like I'm seven.
This is a direct report from the Front lines of Homemaker Dadhood. There are cats and toddlers everywhere. Send Tuna. They all like tuna. Hope everyone is having as much fun as we are. Have a great weekend everybody.
This post brought to you by Fatherhood Fridays at dad-blogs.com.