A month or so ago, Radley’s mom got him a cell phone.
Almost all of our text exchanges involve him sending me pictures. Pictures of desserts, cats, and dogs.
Over the weekend, Kiefer took Boo and Radley to IKEA. A couple hours later, Radley texted me a picture of a cat and said, “Named Phoebe.”
Apparently, IKEA sells cats now.
*IKEA does not sell cats. But IKEA is guaranteed to make your kids so grumpy that you’ll agree to swing by PetSmart on your way home just to put everyone in a better mood.
Radley: Dad said we should get her.
Apparently, IKEA will also make your cat-hating husband (who’s only just begun to love your current cat) think adopting another cat is a good idea.
Thoughtsy: I don’t believe you.
Radley: He did. She doesn’t mind dogs and would love another cat around.
Thoughtsy: I’m not sure Esme Kitty would feel the same way.
When Kiefer and my stepsons arrived home, Radley came in first and said, “Wait here. They’re bringing you a surprise.”
Surely IKEA wasn’t bad enough to make Kiefer forget that he’s allergic to cats, that he only recently built up a tolerance to Esme, that the boys barely take care of Ozzy and Esme as it is, and that…oh right…we have a baby arriving in 2.5 weeks!
Boo: We picked you up some orange slices.
Thoughtsy: Thanks! No cat?
Kiefer: No cat.
So, no, IKEA isn’t that bad. But Kiefer also didn’t actually buy anything that needed assembly. If so, we might have ended up with another cat…or two.
Favorite Comment From Last Post: “Laying down with your feet up….isn’t that maybe how you got yourself into the pregnancy predicament to begin with?”—SandyLand