(This ain’t no umbilical!)
Papa thinks that mama has been more indulgent to me that she might have been even to a kid they might have had. Lots of ‘mights’ in that sentence, but they were not going to have kids. For one thing, papa had two kids already and mama used to say, “I couldn’t have done better myself, so why try?” Now she’s really wondering…but she has me, so there.
She adored those kids and was good to them and never yelled at them and loved to take them to adventuresome places with papa and buy them things—when they first came to visit, they came with empty suitcases, which was just find for her. Mama can’t pass a kids’ store without going in, sort of like those people who can’t pass a chocolate shop.
She oohs and ahhs over little perky dresses for her step-grandkid and she gets jeans for the other one, I think he’s 8 going on about 20—sweet as tuna belly and a good heart. Mama says he takes after Granpap (my papa), who has a loving heart and kind soul.
But—I digress, as usual. So here I am in the morning after having eaten my breakfast and I’m myowing to get out and I get out and then mama puts a stop at the door that’s not too difficult to move and then I come in and then she shuts the door and then I myow to get out again and so on and so forth and by now, papa is saying, “That kitty is spoiled rotten and you just have to let her myow and not bend our lives out of shape when she does her little cute kitty thing!”
And mama says, “Oh, I know, I know, and I’m just going to ignore her now and get on with (you name it) writing, cooking, gardening, talking to papa about all sorts of interesting things, which they love to do and do a lot, and so I myow a bit more and sit next to her and look up at her like that kid in the Julianne Moore movie—remember that kid who sat in the window when his mama left in the car and he had this kind of moony look on his little sad face (a really good actor, that kid), and pretty soon I can feel that I’m about to score, but when mama makes up her mind, it is MADE UP.
So that umbilical papa talks about is not quite as strong as he makes it out to be. She finishes what she’s doing and when she’s good and ready, the door gets opened.
I can’t wait until summer when I won’t have to be at the mercy of these stingy, thoughtless, self-centered anthros I call my parents and I can count on that door being open all day long!
Now doesn’t that sound exactly like anthro kids who are umbilically impaired?
They don’t spoil me. It’s just that kitties will try for anything and then if it doesn’t work, c’est la vie. …
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