Similarities to cats

We have cats. Several of them. All outside. They serve a purpose: eat mice and moles.  My children have an odd relationship with our cats.

You may ask why? Several reasons:

Our cats are somewhat brave/ somewhat stupid.  We have Ollie now, and they just hang around letting the dog harrass them and they just swat at him and go on.  My children play with the cats.  Sometimes, the cats aren't smart enough to run away and hide.  For instance, a couple of days ago the boys are outside playing in the yard while I'm watching them from the dining room doing some sewing. All of a sudden, something hits the window. It wasn't a rock.  I run outside in a rage and then I see something else flying. It's not our turkeys. Next, comes discipline and a lesson on respecting all of God's creatures.  Reasoning, the cat scratched me.  My response: I would have scratched you too.

  Cats poop outside on the ground, covered up.  Today, I walk to the garage after seeing Caleb streak through. What do I find? No, it's not cat poop but  kid poop.  Are you serious?  (I say that alot lately).    After cleaning out the "Litter box" of Caleb I see him getting a spoonful of dirt and acting like he is covering up his poop.  No, Caleb, you are not a cat, but a boy. 

Sidenote: I come inside, I'm working on a project we have going on and the boys, being boys, are banished outside for a time due to their similarity to wild indians while Linley is asleep.  So, all of a sudden both boys come marching in the house telling me I had to see something.  Uh oh.  I walk outside and there, on the roof of the garage, is Ethan's pillow pet "Wild Ears" on the roof. A pillow pet, outside, on the roof.  I wouldn't have thought to put him there. Ethan's response: "Can you let me climb up there and get it?" Uh, no, but at least he asked.

An hour or so later we are inside.  The boys are playing at the train table and I smell something. Linley is asleep so it can't be her dirty diaper.  Next, who's to blame but Caleb.
Me: Caleb, did you poop?
Caleb: very quietly, Uh huh.
Me: You pooped AGAIN? Where?
Caleb: In the kitchen.
Me to myself: 1. Disgusting.
                       2. How much poop can 1 child have?
                       3. Disgusting.
                       4. I've got to clean that up. Or should he have to clean that up? No, I'm too much of a germ-a-phobe to have him clean it up.
                       5. I think I might cry.

Poop cleaned up, Praise the Lord Mammy has come over so I can go to a yard sale and meet John for a movie, where I don't have to clean up any one or anything's poop, or think about cats.