My Little Cats
I let two cats out of my hat this morning, while in the middle of trying to clean up the kitchen from breakfast, Little Cat A and Little Cat B. This time there was no pink tub ring to remove from household furnishings, but I figured a little help with the morning dishes might go a long way…or a little way.
Little Cat A wanted me to “go camping” with her, and I told her I would when I was done in the kitchen. “Would you like to help Mama put the clean dishes away?” I ask, with only a flicker of second-guessing what I was getting myself into. “Sure, Mama!” she exclaims, always the enthusiast when it comes to helping me do chores, that is, unless it means picking up her own toys.
[Little Cat A]
I had a little foreshadowing of doom as we started. Got Little Cat A started on emptying the utensil container, when Little Cat B came along with her usual “Me too!” I quickly refrain her from climbing on top of the open dishwasher door before I realize I’ve got to give her a job, too, or further mayhem would be the result. I look around the kitchen for something she can “do” while Little Cat A and I finished up the clean dishes. I spot the electric sweeper my mom gave me for my last birthday. “Would you like to vacuum up the floor, Esther?” I suggest. A hardy “Yesh!” is the reply. The handle is about four times her height, and I know it’s on the ridiculous side to give her this task, but I set her off on it anyway, hurriedly turning back to the dishwasher, trying to double-time it in an attempt to preempt the quick onslaught of disaster.
[Little Cat B]
Seconds later, I hear a revving motor and a small voice cry out, “Mommy, hep (help)!” The electric sweeper is hanging over the step in the living room, and Little Cat B is fishing with the handle, trying to keep it from going completely over the edge onto the living room carpet. After righting the sweeper and adjusting the size of the handle to a more manageable level for her, which I then kick myself for not doing in the first place, I return back to the kitchen to find Little Cat A licking the utensils before putting them into the drawer. “Abby, no! Those are clean; don’t lick them! Just put them in the drawer.” I don’t even begin to try to hunt out the already-contaminated pieces; I figure they’ve all got cooties by now. And…we’re all family.
Back to the dishwasher I run, with all the pandemonium continuing around me, including Little Cat A using a clean butter knife to peel away the caulking around the sink edge and Little Cat B slowing the sweeper’s engine by running it down the carpeting in the hallway, until – VOOM! – I am finished with the last dish, and I look around to see Little Cat A putting the last couple of spoons into the drawer and Little Cat B returning the sweeper to its proper home. There.
Don’t think I’m going to bring those little cats out to clean with me again for another couple of years.
[If you haven’t read The Cat in the Hat Comes Back, my favorite Dr. Suess book, this post won’t be nearly so amusing.]
Little Cat A wanted me to “go camping” with her, and I told her I would when I was done in the kitchen. “Would you like to help Mama put the clean dishes away?” I ask, with only a flicker of second-guessing what I was getting myself into. “Sure, Mama!” she exclaims, always the enthusiast when it comes to helping me do chores, that is, unless it means picking up her own toys.
[Little Cat A]
I had a little foreshadowing of doom as we started. Got Little Cat A started on emptying the utensil container, when Little Cat B came along with her usual “Me too!” I quickly refrain her from climbing on top of the open dishwasher door before I realize I’ve got to give her a job, too, or further mayhem would be the result. I look around the kitchen for something she can “do” while Little Cat A and I finished up the clean dishes. I spot the electric sweeper my mom gave me for my last birthday. “Would you like to vacuum up the floor, Esther?” I suggest. A hardy “Yesh!” is the reply. The handle is about four times her height, and I know it’s on the ridiculous side to give her this task, but I set her off on it anyway, hurriedly turning back to the dishwasher, trying to double-time it in an attempt to preempt the quick onslaught of disaster.[Little Cat B]
Seconds later, I hear a revving motor and a small voice cry out, “Mommy, hep (help)!” The electric sweeper is hanging over the step in the living room, and Little Cat B is fishing with the handle, trying to keep it from going completely over the edge onto the living room carpet. After righting the sweeper and adjusting the size of the handle to a more manageable level for her, which I then kick myself for not doing in the first place, I return back to the kitchen to find Little Cat A licking the utensils before putting them into the drawer. “Abby, no! Those are clean; don’t lick them! Just put them in the drawer.” I don’t even begin to try to hunt out the already-contaminated pieces; I figure they’ve all got cooties by now. And…we’re all family.Back to the dishwasher I run, with all the pandemonium continuing around me, including Little Cat A using a clean butter knife to peel away the caulking around the sink edge and Little Cat B slowing the sweeper’s engine by running it down the carpeting in the hallway, until – VOOM! – I am finished with the last dish, and I look around to see Little Cat A putting the last couple of spoons into the drawer and Little Cat B returning the sweeper to its proper home. There.
Don’t think I’m going to bring those little cats out to clean with me again for another couple of years.
[If you haven’t read The Cat in the Hat Comes Back, my favorite Dr. Suess book, this post won’t be nearly so amusing.]
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