Daddy's little clone

Rory is such a good kitty. We hope he will grow into those ears someday.

Every one thinks that I have such a quiet and sweet little boy. I do, in public. At home where he is free of critics he lets it all hang out. If he is being quiet it usually signals either a plot afoot or that he is unconscious. Like the calm before the storm he will brew silently before springing into action. Right now he is chasing Clio with my hair brush. Do I know how he got my hair brush? Nope. I keep it in a little caddy on the wall of the bathroom. I have to stand on tip toe to reach it. If I had to guess I would say Daddy must have played a part in his obtaining it. Daddy and Rory can be found at the scene of any crime. More often than not together.

About a half hour ago J noticed the house was quiet except for the sounds of gunfire coming from the XBOX. (Surely you did not think my house was devoid of ALL sound? With four people, six cats, and two dogs noise is part of life.) Well, we found our son sitting next to the toy box in the living room "reading" a book on elephants. Finally one of my genes is surfacing in my son! It is about dang time. Since birth Rory has been the carbon copy of his Father. I am happy that they will have so much in common but I would like just a little something that shows I am his mother.

I did carry him for ten months. It was me that threw up more than any woman should ever have to. I was the poster child for abstinence with all of my morning sickness. I swore I would never do this again. In the end I got a kid that is the spitting image of his daddy except for my super pale skin which I doubt he is going to thank me for. If he inherits his Dad's chicken legs coupled with the pasty complexion...ouch! Puberty should be fun.