He's gone on offense

Our poor cat. Really, his life teeters on the thin line between well loved and SPCA report. Avery carries him, feeds him (forcefully), dresses him, and (attempts) to bathe him. This week he's taken a new approach. Offense.
If Avery gets within a 5 ft radius, he attacks. It's a swift little manuever followed by a dash to the highest object possible (to avoid retribution, I presume). Since it is summer, Avery has the battle wounds confirm this vicious little game.
T and I have discussed declawing the cat, but we feel claws are the one thing that keeps us on the well loved side of the thin line. We feel they are vital to the cats defense, but this new offense has really thrown us for a loop.
Suggestions?

15 minutes at our house

1. Noticed something a tad odd about the cat. "Avery, what did you do to Thomas." "Oh, Lipstick mommy." Great...I guess I'll be getting new lipstick. But it is really Thomas's color, we'll save the rest for him.

2. Avery notices that Eli sleeping in the buff (trying to help that diaper rash). "Ohhh, he's wearing the same jammies as daddy." I about lost it at that one. DH had NO idea Avery knew about that...guess he won't be wearing those "jammies" anymore!

FYI

Sleeping with a two year old was WAY WAY better than sleeping with a kitten. Stupid, stupid, husband. At least he's good looking, sometimes it is his only saving grace.

Reason enough not to get a cat for a 2 y.o.

Ever wonder why a 2 year old shouldn't have a cat?
2 year olds like Band-Aids. Cats....not nearly as impressed with Band-Aids.

Lather, Rinse, Repeat

Well, night one with the kitty would have been an absolute riot had I not been coming off two weeks at a frantic pace and utterly exhausted.

You can just imagine how bedtime went over considering that was right about the time DH and Avery arrived home with Mr. O'Malley (the kitty....named from the Aristocats).I think we probably had to put her down about thirty times. That's not exagerrating to make the story better. That's fact. So, the reason she had "earned" the kitty was that she'd stayed in her own bed all night (genius dad's plan).

Wouldn't you know it at 3:00, we get not one but to visitors to our bed. "Look daddy, I got my kitty."This basically starts World War Avery in our bedroom. DH tells her she needs to go to her room, she refuses. It gets a little messy as they "argue" (since the voice of reason was trying to block them both out and get a bit more sleep). I wake up, diffuse the situation, get her back to bed, and all is well with the world again. For about 10 minutes and then it starts all over. Avery enters room, dad tells her no, Avery says no, mom tries to sleep, mom gives up, Avery goes to room. Lather, rinse, repeat and that's how the rest of the night went. Over and over until, Avery crashed about 20 minutes before we had to get up.

I couldn't help but giggle even through my sleep deprevation at how miserably DH's plan had failed. Did he seriously think getting her a kitty would make her stay in her bed? Our only hope is that she will stay in her room tonight because she realized kitty has claws.So here is Thomas... I particulary like the one where she is trying to make him turn his face and show his good side.

The fish is doomed.

Yep. I'm pretty sure his days are numbered and it is all my DH's fault. Grab some popcorn, sit back, relax, this might be a rather long one!

Avery has been coming to our bed in the middle of the night. Not for any reason, but to cuddle in and fall right back to sleep. DH in all of his parenting genius told Avery that if she stayed in her bed at night, he'd get her a kitty. How's that for a reward? Idiot. So, miracle of all miracles, she stayed in her bed all night that very night. Can you say master daddy manipulator? First thing she said when she woke up was, "Where's my kitty." Umm, score one for the two year old.

First thing she tells my mom when I drop her off, "Daddy is bringing me a kitty today." So, I call my DH and told him Avery fully expects a kitty. Today. Black. It darn well be a kitten and not a cat. Per the girl's specifications. Litter trained. Per the wife's order.

So, DH spends all day trying to find a kitty. A black one. Kitten, not a cat. Today. Litter trained. No luck. Comes in the door tonight and Avery runs yelling, "You got my kitty?" At which point a look of total defeat crosses my DH's face. Score two, for the two year old.

He had actually found her a black kitten. Only problem was it was stuffed. She didn't buy it. Score three, for the two year old.He expands his search to a neighboring community. Finds a kitten. Litter-trained. Black and white. Loads up Avery and off they go to see if he'll meet the requirements. I remind DH that if this kitty is up to the inspectors specifications that he needs to get food, a litter box, and litter.

They come back a bit later. Kitty in hand as well as a litterbox, food, and litter. And also cat bed, collar, and numerous cat toys. Can you say sucker? Score another one (I've lost track) for the two year old. DH had said that the kitten was "free to a good home"....umm yeah, how did that work out for you buddy?

As they walk in the door, who gets to meet the kitty first???? Mommy? Izaac? Eli? Remember what this post started out to be about? The fish. Poor guy. He's had it rough as it is and things are just starting to calm down. He hasn't needed any fish therapy in weeks. So, Avery presses poor kitty's face to the aquarium and introduces them. Now that Avery's gone to bed, I've tried to explain to the fish about a possible opening in the witness protection program, but he was too distraught.

Another Avery funny: She was showing the kitty and I all of the "tuf" her and her dad had gotten at the store. She pointed to the bed and said "sleep" and then pointed to the litter box and said "poop". I'm pretty sure the kitty understood.