Tag Archives: toys

Five Seconds

That’s how long Obi was interested in this new toy.

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Which, really, means I got my money’s worth since I bought it on clearance. I didn’t really think he’d like it much, but it has elements he does like. After thinking about it for five minutes I realized I was putting a lot of thought into a $1 purchase.

He might like it tomorrow.

Friskies has come out with another instructional video for cats. Kitten Thunder knows all these things already, but I forward it to you in case YOUR cats need more training. It’s always a good idea to review the fundamentals.

The Boy was gone this weekend so Oliver and Obi gave me undivided supervision. Okay, actually they took an extra long nap both afternoons. And gave me special glares for being in the workshop instead of on the couch where I belong.

But, because they are trained in human resuscitation (as discussed in the video) they managed to bring me back to life each morning. Really really early each morning.

So I’m grateful. Really really grateful.

The Switch

Hello. Have we told you about the box?

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I poked this head sized hidey hole in it so I can see my brother coming…

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And hide.

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TADAAAAAA! I leap from the box!

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Did someone see a brother come through here?

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Hello. Have we told you about the box?

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Best box ever.

How Deep Does This Go?

The Boy and I were taking a walk this afternoon and discussing our house. His office used to be a bedroom, but at some point they removed the closet and turned the built in storage around to face the bathroom. This happened when they removed the bathtub from the bathroom to make room for real stairs to the attic addition. But, The Boy postulated, the built ins do not fill in that entire space. There is room to add a closet back in.

When we got home, we grabbed the magic toy making and started measuring. The Boy removed one of the drawers. Of course, this attracted help. Obi went in to take a closer look. The Boy and I measured the depth of the shelving in the built in, then the stairs. There is, indeed, enough room for a shallow closet.

Meanwhile, Oliver decided he, too, must check the drawer.

Obi came out to suggest that our use of the magic toy making stick was wasted on home improvement. His home would me most improved, he said, if we used the stick to get his mousies out from under the couch. So I did. In addition to the two flat mousies, I also recovered a bouncy ball, a milk rink, and enough cat hair to knit a minion.

Oliver doesn’t know what we were discussing in the bathroom, but he did eventually lose interest in the drawer and leave. The Boy replaced the drawer and we all returned to the living room to watch Obi play with a mousie.

Home sweet home.

The Invisible String

Well hello there! If you haven’t seen us in a while, it’s because we went off and tried hosting on our own and we lost some of our subscribers. We missed the WordPress community, though, so we’re back. If you didn’t follow us to the new location, the last several months of posts have moved with us so you don’t have to miss a thing.

And on with the show:

ImageOliver was doing a full-press cute this afternoon.

ImageSo much cuteness, jammed into 14 pounds of fluffy. It was almost painful.

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I was down on the floor taking pictures because he’d been attacking the rug. Darting. Dodging. Leaping. Skittering. At…nothing. “Ooh, you get that floor!” I cheered.

Obi looked at me like I was stupid.

ImageLast night, while transferring new beads into the organizer, I must have dropped the plastic string they were on. Invisible strings are wily.

It’s the best toy ever today.

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Meanwhile, on the farm…

 

We had steak last night. Obviously, we didn’t give Oliver any because of his tendency to explode. But after The Boy left for train club, Oli went upstairs. Obi and I were in the living room alone. So I set my plate down for him to lick up the delicious cow juice.

I underestimated Oliver’s super sonic food receptors. Before I knew what was happening, he was downstairs and licking the plate.

Then he was exploding. Immediately. Violently. Abundantly.

Meanwhile, downstairs on the farm. The farmer’s life is continuing to get more and more peculiar. One of the soldiers that is hanging around the farm – no one is quite sure whether they are there to protect the farm from the world or the world from the farm – is about to have a bad day.

And the polar bear with soon have his own bad day. I think that giraffe is carnivorous.

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The cows are surprisingly healthy this week.

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A train car has been left in the middle of the field. The giant pig is happy for some his-sized shade for once. Did you know that pigs get sunburned?

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The farmer is so busy with his critters, he’s completely forgotten to keep an eye on his daughter. She’s been sneaking off with the local giant; they hide behind the barn and talk about their future. And Vonnegut.

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I’d love to know…

There was a big Thunder going on on the main floor while I was working in the basement. When I came upstairs, this is what I found.

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The questions are, of course, why did they move my shoe to the middle of the doorway in the hall? And why did they decide that was the right place to store a bouncy ball?

I’m open to theories.

Doctor Pi

Do do doooo, do da doooooooo. Do wa do wa do wa doo dah dooooooooo.

It is the 50th anniversary of Doctor Who and BBC America is playing all Doctor all the time this week as a lead in to Saturday’s Day of the Doctor special episode.

I’ll be watching on Saturday with eleven of my closest friends.

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And all this week, Kitten Thunder and I have been catching up on episodes I’ve missed, specials I’ve missed, things I’ve seen a hundred times and things I’d see a hundred more times.

And I sing the song. Do do doooo, do da doooooooo. Do wa do wa do wa doo dah dooooooooo.

Right this very instant, “Blink,” with the weeping angels is on. Which leads to this brilliance.

Which never, EVER gets old.

With all of this exposure, it is no wonder that Oliver’s dreams have been infiltrated by Doctor Who adventures.

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At first he was just laying next to me, wedged between the couch and my legs. Then his toes started tapping against my waist. Dap dappa da dap dappa da dap. Do do doooooo…

Then his claws dug in and his front arm started flicking. I imagine Doctor Pi was using a sonic screwdriver to open a can of tuna. Do do tuuuuuuna…

And then his lips started smacking. Good tuna for The Doctor.

Obi and I watched him dreaming for a while. Then I giggled and the grey kitten woke up. Stretching, he decided it was time to go get a snack.

Saving the whoniverse from evil cans of closed tuna is hungry work.

Balls!

I have this strange habit of doing things that will keep me from getting a good night’s sleep. These things seem innocent enough when I’m doing them. Later, when awoken in the middle of the night, it seems obvious that I’m…well… an idiot.

For instance, I didn’t think twice about emptying the change in my pockets onto the toothbrush stand so I could wash my jeans. At 3 a.m., though, as Obi knocked the coins one by one to the floor, my mistake was clear.

And then there was the bouncy ball. The ball that had been sitting on the floor in my office for days, untouched. The ball that I picked up and carried up into the bedroom and bounced across the room for Obi.

The ball that rolled across the floor all night.

For three nights.

Because I’m an idiot. And because, in the light of day, I’d forget to take the ball downstairs.

Idiot.

But my idiocy did lead to cuteness.

Thursday morning, as I was brushing my teeth, I glanced over to see Oliver looking at the bouncy ball. It was rolling toward him. Slowly. I looked around for the brown kitten who surely was responsible for the roll.

No kitten.

Then I saw it. A big black kitten paw was peeking out from under the bed. There was also a stripey tail poking out from the around the corner of the bed.

With one toe, I scooted the ball back toward the paw. A few seconds later, the ball rolled back to me. Scoot. Roll. Scoot. Roll. When my toothbrush turned off I returned to the bathroom. I looked back to see Oliver stretch out on the floor and gently tap the ball back to the bed.

Scoot. Roll.

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On Friday, I had a meeting over lunch and suggested we order bocce balls and salad from a local restaurant, Pizzeria Venti. Bocce balls are large meatballs, wrapped in dough and covered in marinara sauce. Kind of like inside-out spaghetti. There were leftovers. Facing a weekend without The Boy, gone to California for a train thing, I claimed the leftovers.

For lunch today, I ate the last three bocce balls. Oliver sat behind me on the armrest of the couch. He wasn’t coveting, but he did rest his chin on my shoulder and gaze lovingly at my plate. And when I set the plate on my knee with one uneaten meatball, he attempted to help me out. When I moved the plate to the back of the couch, he attempted to follow.

I wolfed down the bocce ball – all except a little bit of dough – and set the plate on the floor. Oliver inspected the plate. He tasted the dough. Then he walked off in disgust.

He prefers a little more ball and a little less bocce.

Six Pack of Fun

I was at Big Lots looking for a specific piece of furniture for a client – sometimes my work takes me in interesting directions. No luck on the furniture, but I did buy some Trendy Tops – the best invention ever for those of us with long torsos. And I bought something else.

Obi’s tweeter bird died last night. The Boy was tossing the bird for the brown kitten while we were waiting for dinner to be ready. Halfway through the play, the bird stopped chirping.

A non-chirping bird is hardly any fun at all.

For this reason, and because Obi only has hundreds of toys – and because they were only a dollar – I bought Kitten Thunder a six pack of chickens. Actually, only three are chickens. The other three are eggs.

Obi approves.

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Laser Focus

The Boy and I went to dinner last night at a new local restaurant. I had this:

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It is a pulled pork sandwich with macaroni and cheese, on sour dough bread, dipped in fry bread and, well, fried. And that next to it? Mashed potatoes drowning in four cups of butter.

After dinner I needed to walk for a while.

We decided to go to the pet store across the street to get a rug for the litter box. Just as I was thinking we should check out the toy aisle, The Boy said we would not get any mice for Obi. At first I thought he was psychic. Then I thought he knows me well. Then I realized he was talking about live mice, at which we had been looking a few minutes before.

So I veered into the toy aisle.

Obi has plenty of toys and the only one he plays with at the moment is flat mousie. That, and light reflected off our phones and onto the wall. I suggested we get a laser.

The Boy said he doesn’t need a laser, he has a phone and the sun.

I pointed out that the sun goes away. The Boy shrugged and walked off.

I pointed out, to myself, that the laser toys were on clearance for $4. Sold! Who can argue with such salesmanship?

The laser is much better than a reflection from a phone.

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It goes up.

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It goes down.

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It goes all around.

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Much to my disappointment, Obi will not attack The Boy when the red dot tries to make that happen. But he is laser focused for ten minutes at a time and I can wear him out while sitting on the couch.

Four dollars well spent.