Friday, October 17, 2008

There's a Ninja in my oatmeal

Delilah's name has stuck, though I mostly call her Dee Dee. Sometimes, when she's particularly fiesty, like fiesty enough to pounce on Lily who is three times her size, I call her Ninja. It fits. She's black clad, nimble, and kick ass. The only trouble with her really is that she eats EVERYTHING. Including our food.

Let's say you're at the kitchen table eating something that's not even in a cat's nature to crave. Like Fruit Loops, or (in my case) cinammon raisin oatmeal. You get up to chase your son because he's running through the hallway with his underwear on his head instead of brushing his teeth like you told him to do. The Ninja kitten will wait. Perhaps she was the one who influenced your son to do this in the first place. She needed to distract you and she's noticed that 1) you will drop anything you are doing if you notice that one of the children is deliberately disobeying you, and 2) your son doesn't like to wear pants. So odds are she found the underwear on the floor and paraded around with it on her head to give your boy the idea. He was like a moth to flame. And now you've jumped up from your breakfast and Ninja is hidden in a corner, rubbing her paws together with a Cheshire cat grin, only more malevolent and slightly hungry.

You disappear around the corner. She alights the table. She sniffs the bowl and thinks, "One bite and this human will throw out the entire bowl. Mmmmmmwahahahaha!" She nibbles. She rubs her face on the sides of the bowl so that oats will stick to her whiskers. She is so involved with the oatmeal debauchery that she doesn't notice that you have walked back into the room, and you're standing there with your arms folded, tapping your foot. She gives you a look that challenges you. This look says, "Yeah. I'm eating your oatmeal, ya bastard." You go to sweep her off the table, but her reflexes are lightening fast and she leaps onto the floor, her maniacal laughter filling the hallway as she runs.

You stare at your ruined oatmeal. You take it as a sign from God that you're wasting your time dieting, and you eat a half a bag of double stuffed Oreo cookies. You seem to recall a Bible verse you learned as a child that implied that creme filling was next to Godliness. Amen.

And now I'm hungry.


biggearhead said...

Maybe you should call him Blackbeard the Vittles Pirate!

"Arrr, matey! Where be me Wheaties?!"

Underwear on the head - why does this sound so familiar? This is some classically boy type of activity that I'm sure gets acted out all across the globe on a daily basis. I wonder if my nephew does that? I wonder if my sister would kill me if I showed him that trick? I like living. Perhaps I'll keep it to myself.

Did you ever run around with your shirt pulled mostly off, but still stuck around your forehead? Like when you were little, and you started taking it off, and the neck hole gets to that stuck point, and you just thought that was so funny that you started running around the house acting like a superhero or something wth an inside-out shirt on your head?

Maybe that was just me, but I kinda doubt it!

Genevieve said...

I like the vittles pirate! I think it's the word "vittles" that does it for me. Perhaps I could call her Vittles. Or Little Vittles.

Have I ever run around with a shirt stuck on my head...that does sound familiar. When my cousin was little (like two) he took off all of his clothes and chased me and my other cousin around the house. We called him The Naked Tornado. I don't know why we called him that, or why we were running from him in the first place as if he was a real threat. But The Naked Tornado stuck. Not as a name for him, but as a joke between me and my cousin Brennan. Kids are weird. Now that I think about it, Brennan and I should keep calling him The Naked Tornado, especially the next time he brings a date to a family get together. What else is a family for?