Stray Cats and Words From Hans

We are currently trying to tame a wild cat. Although a wild cat is vastly different from a wildcat (that would be taking on quite the challenge!), it still isn't going particularly well. (I keep thinking of Christ's words to his rebellious people, "how oft would I have gathered you as a hen gathereth her chickens, and ye would not.") 

It's a darling, helpless-looking little thing  -- not a kitten, but far from full grown -- and, unlike the many other stray cats that frequent our neighborhood, Shasta has seemed mildly tolerant of it sneaking up to his food bowl on occasion. Having aroused our sympathies, we caught the skinny thing in a trap and brought it in -- hoping to get him accustomed to us -- simply so it can have a place to call home and avoid a life of foraging for scraps from other cats' food bowls. We hold it and feed it ... but it still only streaks under a bed to cower the minute we let it out of it's little carrier. It wants only to return to its life of struggling for survival and refuses to recognize that we might have something better to offer. 

Mike pulled out The Little Prince the other night and read this to the kids:

To me, you are still nothing more than a little boy who is just like a hundred thousand other little boys. And I have no need of you. And you, on your part, have no need of me. To you, I am nothing more than a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But if you tame me, then we shall need each other. To me, you will be unique in all the world. To you, I shall be unique in all the world..."

Anyway! The topic of this cat leads me nicely into a few other recorded bits of conversation from Hans.

We weren't sure if the new little cat was male or female initially, but it appeared to be a girl. As the kids squabbled about names, Hans who, just like several other of his errant siblings, can't resist a good opportunity for some potty talk gleefully suggested the name "Poo-Poo". But Summer, without any hesitation, dismissed the name outright. "Hans," she said, matter-of-factly, "Poo-Poo's a boy's name!" 

And with that, Poo-Poo was out of the running. 

But, sadly, ... not out of our vocabulary. As I cleaned up breakfast this morning I discovered a lovely surprise waiting for me on the kitchen table. The word "poop" spelled out in cereal pieces. Complete with an exclamation mark and a smiley face.

(We did amazingly well at keeping potty talk out out of the language of our first few children. But somehow, somewhere along the line, our vigilance must have faltered. And like a great wave it overtook us.)

More from Hans:

"Mom!" (As he holds up his latest drawing.) "Look! This is the scariest thing I could ever make! It's a black monster, and it's holding its own eyeball!"

And this:

"Mom! You have a golden tooth! (It's true. I do.) "You'll be getting ten bucks when you lose that tooth!"

And lastly:

"Are drinking-blood bats real?"
"I think so. I think there are some bats that drink blood. Not of people. Just of some animals."
"OK. I'm never going on an adventure at night."
"Well they aren't around here. They are in another country."
"A haunted country?"

And now for a few more photos. 

Starling can often be found playing with toys in the windowsill behind this couch in our bedroom. Or just lounging on the upper cushions -- squashing them all out of shape.

And she will now occasionally allow me to do her hair. Mostly she refuses. And mostly, once an allowed ponytail has been in for about five minutes, she begins requesting to have it removed. But they do make her look awfully darling! (And awfully grown up!)

And to end, this funny picture of Anders I found on my phone, followed by a few cozy shots of Summer and Starling.