Tag Archives: toys

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.

***

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.

Advertisements

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.

image

image

image

image

image

image

image

image

image

Laser Focus

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

image

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.

image

It goes up.

image

It goes down.

image

It goes all around.

image

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.

Missing Mousie

Obi’s flat mousie is missing. We have searched everywhere: under the couch, under the loveseat, under the recliner, in the coat closet, in the dining room, in the boxes. Everywhere.

We’ve retraced our steps and the last time anyone can remember mousie was Sunday morning. He was on the floor by the recliner.

We suspect foul play.

We suspect Barbie.

***

I found this on Pinterest this week. I haven’t actually verified any of these facts to see if they are accurate but:

1. Nobody would lie on the internet.
2. I want it to be true.

Purr Therapy is real, yo.

image

I pinned a whole lot of new adorable this week. Check it out.

My Funnies page has some new giggles as well.

***

Update: Mousie has been found! Our apologies for the things we called Barbie behind her back.

Barbies are the Bomb

We had family in town this weekend for State Hockey. My parents stayed here at the house. And, for the convenience of those that had to be at the tournament early, we had my niece, Lexi, with us too.

The Boy and I brought her home with us after dinner with my brother’s family on Friday. We watched some Nickelodeon. It turns out that all three of us would have liked The History Channel more. Lessons learned.

Yesterday, Lexi went to the store and bought what every eight year old girl does when they have extra money: Barbie. She also got a Barbie wardrobe/closet/case thing. As soon as she brought it out and my house, I knew she was going to have help.

Something told me Oliver would be all about the Barbie. And indeed he was.

For one thing, the case was the perfect height for chin scratching. He sat next to Lexi on the floor for an hour, scratching his chin and picking out the next outfit for Barbie when Lexi held up his choices.

Obi came through a couple times and picked out some outfits as well. Of course you’d wear a short silver disco dress to go to the grocery store! What other option could there be? But once Barbie was dressed for the store, Obi left to check out the other people that were here to visit.

Lexi also threw flat mousie for Obi. She scratched Oliver’s head. She generally delighted the fuzzy kittehs. When we came back without her, they were disappointed.

But then I made it up to them: nap time. After a weekend of being good hosts, Oliver was ready to lay on the couch for a serious snuggle. For hours. Now he is upstairs to catch up on his afternoon nap that he missed while he was sleeping on the couch with me. Obi is snoozing at my feet.

And they are both, I think, dreaming of Barbie.

There is No Pope and Bears are Hibernating…

…so how is Obi supposed to say that yes, he does want his belly rubbed?

Sure, the next Pope will be Catholic. Sure, bears, in general, do pee in the woods. But what about right now? What smart alecky comment can he come back with right now?

***

When The Boy is downstairs for a long time, Obi will go down and tell him about the great boredom. The problem is that The Boy and Obi have this great fetching game…upstairs. And that is what Obi wants to play. They go up to the belly rubbing rug and find the flat mousie. He’s usually under the couch. The Boy will throw the mousie into the hallway and Obi will go and get it. He brings it back to the rug (sometimes the mousie puts up a fight and it takes a while) and The Boy will throw it again. It’s not exactly “fetch” so much as a deeply held belief by the brown kitten that mousies belong on the rug.

Almost all of his toys are in the living room, near the rug.

Last night, The Boy decided that Obi needed a basement mousie. We happen to have two flat mousies so he chose the other one – not Obi’s favorite mousie in all the world – for the basement relegation. He threw the mousie from the rug, into the hall, and Obi chased it. The Boy got it from Obi before he got back to the rug and threw the mousie into the kitchen. From there he threw it down the stairs. From there he threw it down the downstairs hallway. Thinking he had made it, he threw the mousie the length of the train layout and waited for Obi to bring it back to him.

Obi brought it back…

To the rug in the living room.

Mousies belong on the belly rubbing rug.

The Boy took the mousie back downstairs with him and it has remained downstairs for 24 hours. We’ll see what happens the first time they play with it.

 

Single Cats Awareness Day

Poor Obi doesn’t have enough toys. He just stole my chapstick off the coffee table. It is in the quilt cave.

***

Yesterday Obi was playing with a pink plastic ring. He started his favorite game: throw the toy under the loveseat so the girl will dig it out and throw it. After a couple rounds with me, Obi decided The Boy might feel neglected. He took the ring over to the couch and threw it. Boy? Boy?

The Boy did not find the pink ring. Obi had to make due with what he did find – two flat mousies, a fuzzy, and a milk ring. Oliver showed up to snag the milk ring.

Poor brown kitten. How he suffers.

image