...The inflate-a-beds are in it, the sleeping bags are arrayed, and T is off in another room, watching a far less scary film. Not even sure what it is - Oh. Janneke just told me. "Kit Ketteridge", I think is what she said. From the "American Girl" doll series. Big fun. Here she is:
And here are her sleeping arrangements:
And here's the latest update on the project that has you all on the edges of your seats:
1,100:
Lots of last-minute stuff had to be done for this sleepover. We realized that one of our inflate-a-beds was a thing of the past, having been tossed for repeated leakages; neither of us had realized it until today. So we (I) had to charge out to the hardware store and buy another one. And on the same trip, I picked up the pizza.
1,200:
I'm probably going to go down in local 3rd-grade lore as the strictest and meanest Dad in Williamstown. We had some spitting happening at pizza time, which I put a stop to, and some backtalk at the same time, which I also brought to a close. And then there was the negotiating that resulted in permission to play flashlight tag between the end of the movie and the entry to the tent, during which I told them the history and future use of my compost pile, and made it blindingly clear that it was absolutely, positively off-limits. A couple of the boys, at different points in my speech, turned to other boys, bored, and began to talk, and I brought a fairly gentle end to that as well. No one was injured, but I think I might have taken a little bit of the air out of the proceedings. Which isn't a bad thing: there was decidedly too much air in it at the time.
1,300:
T and I brought Skittles to the boarding facility this afternoon. It's a lovely place, and she'll have quite comfortable digs and daily fifteen-minute play sessions with a staff member (twice daily every other day, which cost us $5 more per day). When she got out of the pet carrier, she curled up in the arms of the staffer and immediately began to purr. That was a great sign that she'll be happy, but I have to say, it also kind of made me grumble. Didn't seem nervous or upset at all to be getting put away in a cage. She's a very dog-like cat, but in the end, she's still a cat, I guess.
1,400:
On the way down the driveway, having dropped her off, I asked T if she was thirsty and would like to stop and get something to drink. I didn't get an answer, so I asked her again. Still nothing, so I lowered the music and looked in the mirror - and saw her lower lip jutting out as she began to shake with sobs. She was very unhappy to be without her Skittly-Bittly. But I tried to cheer her up by talking about how cool it will be to get back in a couple of weeks and see how much taller and longer and thicker Skittles will be. She was kind of into that, but some snuffling still continued all the way home.
1,500:
Movie-watching, by the way, has pretty much disintegrated out in the living room. They're play-acting that they're people from the Indiana Jones movies, with guns and cat toys, while "Eragon" drones on in the background. Part of me wants to offer to turn it off, but another part says "Y'know, they're staying out there until the cool parts come on. The movie is containing them, and allowing you to do this." I think I'll listen to that part.
1,600:
I'm filming a lot of little shots of the birthday party, but I'm afraid of going out there to film any of this. Don't want to encourage them, though. And now the two least-interested in the movie have gone back to Q's room to play with Legos. Meaning they're going to make as big a mess as they possibly can - which will make it all the more difficult to hide my smile when I inform them that they have to clean it up. Call me a party-pooper, but Q has several friends (two of whom are here) who actively try to make as ridiculous a mess as possible and then sneak out the door with their parents without having to tidy up. That's not going to happen tonight, believe me.
1,700:
Am I a jerk? Maybe. But honestly, there needs to be some civilizin' done on some of these fellers. And I'm the man for the job...But, speaking of politics, one of the birthday presents Q's getting this year from his Auntie Jayne, who had asked me to let her know what Q might like, but back to whom I had never gotten (sorry, Auntie Jayne; thanks, Auntie Jayne!), is a ticket to go see an MLS game in Boston. Revolution vs. the Los Angeles Galaxy. Beckham theoretically plays for them, and would be back by the day of the game (August 8th), but I fully expect him by that time to have wriggled his way free of MLS and be playing in Europe again. But what the heck, it'll be fun for us. Better soccer than we're going to see anywhere else.
1,800 (I scraped away the chips between the last one and this one):
We started brushing Skittles daily these past few days, and the difference is unbelievable. She's so soft and fluffy now - we go through a lot of treats, drawing her near and trying to get her to associate nice things with the process (which, by itself, she isn't fond of), and she suddenly even seems cleaner. I would never have thought I'd like having a long-haired cat - time was, I'd have thought of it as an effete pomposity. Something people like us didn't do. But now, I figure, Hey, what's wrong with paying attention to your pets every day? Keeping them trained and happy and tractable? What's wrong with celebrating the loveliness of the tail of a well-brushed Maine Coon as she slinks about the place, looking for the kids, intercepting soccer balls as if they were giant mice?
Nothin', that's what.
1,900:
OK, I've had enough. I'm off to suffer through the last hour or so of the birthday party before they head out to the tent, hopefully never to be heard from again. Until morning, that is. When we eat the waffles.
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