It is my belief that yesterday the planets aligned, and the gravitational pull of the moon was just so, that some force of mischievousness fell upon all the beings in my house.  Either that, or God thought, "Huh, it's been a few days since I had a good laugh at Kate." Incident #1.  I was sitting on my couch last night when Madeline walked over and handed me a throw pillow (from the other couch, because she cannot rest until everything in our home is uprooted and placed somewhere that it doesn't belong - like the floor, or the bathtub, or the black hole that is her Dora Kitchen.  Only God knows what is in that tiny pink refrigerator).

She plopped the pillow in my lap, and as I ran my hands over it, I felt...bumps.  Like hard little chunks of something underneath the pillowcase.  I opened it up and pulled out a piece of petrified something.  Then another.  Then another.  What ON EARTH?  Are they caramels?   No...they smell...rancid.   Oh no, oh no, oh no, OH NO!

IT'S A PIECE OF PORK CHOP!  FROM LAST WEEK!  I will spare you a picture, although I was tempted to document the evil genius of my 2-year-old.

I can picture the crime scene now:  We were all eating dinner in the living room.  (Why the living room, you ask?  Because of the blame puzzle. I WILL NEVER GIVE UP.  Plus, The Office was on.)

"Madeline, you must eat three more bites of pork chop before you are excused."

Madeline smirks, waits until nobody is looking , and slides three pieces up her sleeve.  She meanders over to the place on the floor where she has collected all of the throw pillows in the whole house.   She OPENS UP a pillow, and releases all three pieces of pork chop inside the pillow case.

EVIL GENIUS.  What happened to dropping it on the floor?  Or stuffing pockets?  Where does she get this stuff?

Incident #2.  We dropped Jasper off at the vet yesterday, to have his boy-parts removed.  It was...an ordeal.  When the vet tech tried to listen to his heart, Jasper began to flail all of his limbs spastically, like he was trying to fly away. Claws and fur everywhere.

When the vet came in to help, Jasper rolled onto his back, stuck out his claws, and started bicycle-kicking with all four limbs, making himself impossible to pick up.   They left the room and came back with a towel to wrap him up and restrain his kung-fu kitty limbs.  He hissed viciously and wriggled free.  Eventually, they had to take him out of the room, where THREE professionals held him down in his towel just to listen to his heartbeat.

I was so embarrassed.  In that moment it felt like he was my child who was throwing a temper tantrum in the grocery store.  When everyone reentered the room I picked up my little buddy to comfort him a bit, and defend his honor.  He sniffed my nose and calmed down a little bit.  I said, "I promise, he's really a very pleasant cat at home."   As soon as the words left my lips, he betrayed me.  He SCRATCHED ME, ON THE FACE, leaving a big red claw mark across my cheek.

The vet just nodded.  I imagine she was thinking, "Sure, scarface, I bet he's very pleasant."


But you know what?  Dan behaved very well yesterday.