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From the moment we spied the free kitten sign on the side of the road, Shadow has been a unique mix of trouble and entertainment. He spends his days knocking over and shredding the contents of bathroom garbage cans, perching on the edge of the top load washing machine to swat at the water, and climbing in the toilet to have a drink if someone fails to put down the lid. When my mom was visiting, he got all the drinks he wanted.

He also inhabits every paper bag left on the floor. It does not matter if the bag is full of groceries, books, or items to donate, he will go inside and attempt to push everything else out. This morning, I gave Abby a paper bag half full of old books to donate for the school’s yard sale. I set it down on the floor and Shadow climbed in. Josiah attempted to pick up the bag and slide Shadow out, but Shadow forced his way further in. I grabbed the bag to dump him out. The books dumped out, but Shadow stretched himself to full length and grasped a hold of the inside paper with his claws. I won the battle, but the bag had a rough go of it.

Shadow has also taken up the challenge of opening doors. One night, I found him wandering about when he was supposed to be asleep with Zeke. The most likely explanation for his escape may have been that the door wasn’t fully latched. However, earlier in the day, I had observed him attempting to use the cloth bags and lanyards hanging off the doorknob as leverage to turn the handle. Two days ago, Abby observed him trying a similar maneuver when he attempted to open the basement door. A green canvas sleeve full of plastic grocery bags is hanging on the basement door handle. Shadow jumped up on the canvas sleeve, grabbed a hold of it with all four claws, and rocked back and forth trying to get the handle to turn.

When Abby told us the story, Gabe remarked that he should be able to rig the doorknobs to make Shadow’s endeavors more successful.

That’s just what I need: a doorcat.

From the time he was an infant, Gabe has carried a blanket around with him. (He’s a bit like Linus.) As he has grown, the blankets he drags about have grown in size with him. I will often find him laying on the wooden floor next to the kitchen table wrapped in the blankets or sheets from his bed. (The soft blue blanket Dines bought him after the fire is the most often used.) Why he wants to lay on a hard wooden floor is beyond my comprehension. Why he likes to drag himself along the floor using a blanket baffles me as well. These actions create an endless source of arguments between us.

“Gabe, the floor has food crumbs, cat hair and dirt from people’s shoes on it. You are getting your bedding all dirty,” I say.

“They’re my blankets. I should be able to lay on the floor with them if I want,” he replies.

And around and around we go with this argument day after day, night after night. The only thing that varies is the blanket he is laying in.

Sometimes Gabe uses Dale’s ‘nap on the couch’ blanket. (This blanket was the replacement for Dale’s green girl which over the years shredded away to nothing.) Sometimes Gabe uses our Army poncho liner which Zeke has claimed as now an essential part of his bed covers. (The Army poncho liner is the most versatile blanket ever created. It is extremely light weight, incredibly durable, provides shelter and warmth, washes and drys quickly, and is good to use as either a picnic blanket or a sick child’s covering.) Once I caught Gabe with my Christmas gift Chicago Bears throw. He told me he couldn’t resist it because it was so fuzzy and soft.

I could see no way out of this daily argument. However, Gabe, being left handed, has come up with a solution for this dilemma, and has added an item to his birthday wish list. The last line now reads:

“Large blanket for dragging on floor.”

Initially, the tooth fairy was quite diligent in our home. Then, she or he became a bit neglectful. The third and fourth child unluckily bear the brunt of the tooth fairy’s poor sense of duty.

A few days ago, Gabe announced loudly for all to hear, “Tell the tooth fairy that I am putting a tooth under my pillow.”

“Yeah, if we see the tooth fairy, we’ll let him or her know,” I replied.

Unfortunately for Gabe, the tooth did not disappear in the night to be replaced by some cash.

“The tooth fairy didn’t show up,” he said the next day and the day after that and the day after that.

I offered him a variety of reasons for the tooth fairy’s negligence. “Maybe she or he is running late. Maybe money is tight right now. Maybe there were an excessive number of lost teeth to be seen to…”

Or maybe the tooth fairy is thinking, “You are almost 12 years old. Shouldn’t you be done losing teeth?”

Many parents try to influence their children to enter the family business; be it a restaurant, pawn shop, or law firm. Both my Mom and Dad served a stint in the Air Force and one brother and I joined the Army. Dale’s Daddy had a military career with combined service in the Air Force and the Army. Dale and three of his siblings joined the Army. His one sister, who did not join the military, has one son in the Army and another son soon to join.

Dale and I are attempting to avoid this parenting path. We have told our children we will not force them into the military.

After Josiah registered to take the ACT, he began receiving admissions info from various universities. Upon receiving material from a college in Vermont, he looked the university up on line and discovered a frequently googled query, “Do only hippies go to this college?”

Yesterday, he received an admissions letter in an embossed envelope with “Your exclusive nomination is enclosed” printed on the outside. He looked at it and set it down. He did not even bother to open it.

The letter was from VMI.

Last night, I was in the kitchen making cookies, and Zeke was in the sun room counting “how many doctors would it take” as he jumped rope. How Cinderella could possibly have kissed a snake has always been a mystery to me.

Suddenly, the phone rang.

It was Josiah calling. Dale thought it clever to set unique ring tones for members of our family. Josiah’s ring tone sounds like a bugler’s rally call to the cavalry for help. I thought, “That’s odd for Josiah to call…where is he right now?…oh yeah…UPSTAIRS.”

Zeke answered the phone and I listened to one half of the conversation incredulously. Zeke hung up the phone and said, “Patches threw up in the hall.”

“Josiah called from upstairs to tell us the cat threw up? He can’t walk over to Abby’s room and get her?” I asked. Zeke looked at me confused. “Go upstairs and get Abby,” I told him.

At this point, Gabe decided to get involved and start the search for the cat vomit. He thudded up the stairs like a herd of elephants. Gabe thuds wherever he goes. Earlier, Zeke was trying to get Gabe to jump rope and I told Zeke to give it up. “Gabe cannot bounce,” I said “He can only thud.” His footfall when running literally pounds the pavement. Gabe is loud in all things. “I found it! I found the vomit!’ he yelled down the steps. Meanwhile, Zeke informed Abby and she cleaned it up.

Later, when Josiah had made it back downstairs, I asked him, “Were you too lazy to get up and walk down the hall to get your sister?”

“No,” he replied, “My door was closed and I didn’t want to go out because I didn’t know where in the hallway she had thrown up .”

My 17 year old son was trapped. Trapped by cat vomit.