So Wednesday morning I was shrieked awake by forty pounds of deliriously happy girl, all tousle-head and flying blankie 'IT'S MAX AND WOOBY DAY! IT'S MAX AND WOOBY DAY, MAMA!'
And after I peeled up my eyelids and it finally registered that the reason I couldn't see her wasn't blindness but that it was five-thirty in the freaking morning and it was still dark in my bedroom, she was too excited to go back to sleep.
I explained (rather patiently, I thought) that MAX AND WOOBY AREN'T THERE YET and NO, WE DON'T HAVE TO LEAVE NOW and LEMME ALONE, KID, YOU WILL BE AT ONE WITH THE BUNNIES SOON. Mollified, she went off to her room to tell ALL her babies about the rabbits and I fell back to blissful unconsciousness for another few hours.
So Wednesday night was all bunnies. And it was good.
She was blissful and excited and happy beyond belief.
Thursday, Cass and I were ready to see the monsters. And the aliens.
Cass is awesome to take to the movies - awestruck, doesn't yell or steal the armrest or the popcorn, and likes to watch the trailers (like his Mom) so a great time was had by all. An ice-cream rounded out the night. I think we'll be at the theatre a lot this summer.
Then there was today. The old girl Kate has been ill, so we hoisted up her stripety protesting ass and took her into the vets, where they dutifully checked her out. And what looked like thyroid, acted like thyroid but wasn't thyroid last year is now (taaa-daa!) thyroid.
And holy God, I think they charged me a set sum based on how many stripes the cat had.
At least this time they didn't want a sample.
It appears my grandiose old dame has finally become an elderly cat. She's earned it though - I've had her (we think) seventeen years, and our family would be poorer without her. So I will happily pay the vet bills as long as (I'm borrowing from Johnny Virgil here) she doesn't know she's sick. Even if that means pilling her. For the rest of her life. (sigh)
Can't wait to see what tomorrow brings....