As has been mentioned, I think, The Boy and I are using our reception in two weeks as a deadline to get all the little things we’ve wanted to do for two years done. Today, The Boy worked on the high sections of the basement stairwell.
Obi was there to help.
The Boy did not want Obi’s help.
I woke up to a brown kitten poking me in the nose and crying about the deep and abiding boredom from which he suffered. I followed him downstairs and found, when I went into the kitchen for coffee, a closed door. The Boy REALLY didn’t want Obi’s help.
I was holding the brown kitten and we were listening to the sound of a roller on the other side of that door when the grey kitten walked in. He was headed to the breakfast nook for a snack. As he walked past us, though, he stopped.
One foot in the air, mid step.
He turned his head.
He sat down in shock.
When did we get a wall? Who put that wall there? Oliver looked at me and cried. This was not okay.
I set Obi on the floor and assured them both that it was, in fact, okay. The brown kitten decided to treat his boredom with a Thunder and pounced on his brother. By the time they finished wrestling The Boy was done painting and, indeed, it was all okay.