Cat House

"Hey, I have these two boxes in the garage and I was thinking we could make them into little houses for the kitties for Christmas," I told Big Kid at the dinner table last night. "I need your help though because I want them to look really nice. So I was thinking we'd measure the sides and then decide what kind of little houses they'd be, like Calliope's could be a candy shop and Alexander Hamilton's could be, I don't know, whatever, but then I need your help designing a little store front and the building sides in Photoshop. Then we can get it printed at Kinko's and put it on the boxes. I could probably print it myself but -- " It was then that I realized that everyone at the table was completely silent and staring at me. "What?"

Big Kid shook his head. "There is literally not a thought in your head that doesn't revolve around cats."

"No."

"Yes, he's right," Mr. Ashley added.

"Did you just hear yourself, mom? That whole thing? Like, really think about the things you say and tell me they aren't all cat-related."

"But it's the kittens' first Christmas, I was just thinking..."

"He's right," little kid confirmed. Everyone else in the house is kind of boring, so when he takes their side I start to wonder.

"I just thought it would be fun."

"Right. That's the thing, mom. Turning cardboard boxes into cat houses is your idea of fun. That's kind of the whole problem."

"Seriously, Ashley, the cat situation is out of control."

"It's not."

"The sight of them snuggling the other day made you cry. The whole thing is weird."

"I just wish there was a cat big enough to snuggle me like that."

"See? That. It always comes back to cats."

"Okay, then. I'll make the cat houses by myself and I won't put your names on the gift tag."

And then I dropped it but I was secretly mad. The cats don't pull this kind of shit with me. They love my love of cats. Mostly.