This is the belly to rub when you need some luck. This belly has met death three times and won. He has a few more lives to play with. He’s gray. He’s cute. He is GrayCute.
She’s a very special Mint.
We’re not sure where she gets that posing.
… But she is the third child
… sometimes the third child needs to assert herself and let you know that she’s here, dang it, so don’t nobody be messin’ wit me.
I know I’m her mutha, but I’ve NEVER seen a forest green, felt hat with a prominently positioned Goofy patch look so darn cute.
Zelie likes to stand on table tops. But that’s not enough. She would prefer to stand on table tops while perhaps holding a few freshly sharpened Japanese knives in her right hand and a couple venomous snakes in her left. Striving to accomplish something no matter how trivial in her day, she would add to her table top play a brief reading of Green Eggs and Ham in Latin while hopping on one leg in order to free up some time for a hasty review of sweet Bob and his books.
Her mother panics and is reminded of the horrible presentation of a serious concussion.
This is how Zee rolls.
I broke or dislocated Bug’s tail. It was a hornet, you see. An evil hornet that tried to fly in the window, yelling obscenities, directed right at me. It knew my name and my kids names the horrible, chunky stingy thing. So I closed the window quick without looking to see if a cute tail was in the way. But it was. A sleepy, sun soaked cat was innocently absorbing his morning when I shut the window on his tail. He yelled in an Edith Bunker kind of way.
It wasn’t until later that evening that I noticed the kink. I felt his tail and by doing so, I heard a little click that sounded like it popped back in place. But it will never be the same. Poor Bug. He was bred for beauty.