Binding Contracts

After five years, three months, and eight days of living with me, Alexis has started to figure out one universal truth that will always exist in my world: Nothing is free. If she wants to have a say in what I cook for dinner, she better help me empty the dishwasher. If she wants me to read a book to her, she better read one to me first. And if she wants me to buy something for her, I better be getting something out of the deal.

That last one might explain why it's so fun shopping with her. She has been brainwashed and rarely asks for anything without offering something up.

That's how it came to be that Alexis promised she would sleep in her bed three whole nights. She saw a Barbie she wanted and said, "I'm going to sleep in my bed three nights and you can surprise me with that Barbie!"

I had to admire her creative use of manipulation, especially since it was almost a good deal. Almost. I changed the terms to five nights, figuring that if she wanted to set goals and pick her own rewards, fine. Whatever. I would just make the compensation a little sweeter for me.

She, of course, crushed that goal in no time, further proving my theory that it doesn't matter what I do, she will sleep in her bed when she has it in her head that she wants to sleep in her bed. I could duct tape and chain her to the mattress and she'd manage to escape if she set her mind to it. Similarly, she could decide tomorrow that she's never sleeping more than two consecutive hours again, and she would find a way to do it.

Anyway, that's how I found myself running to Target all. by. myself. After doing cartwheels in the gardening aisle and staring at a bunch of things I knew we didn't need, I meandered back to the Barbie aisle and found The One Alexis had requested. Just for kicks, I did a few more cartwheels in the aisles and then walked the entire perimeter of the store. I managed to make the full loop in something less than three miserable weeks and it was glorious! No whining about how far it was! No feet dragging! Did I mention no whining? NO WHINING! About anything!

In theory I should have spent $9,351,340 while I was there. ALONE! In reality, I bought the Barbie and that was it.

I'm so lame.

Regardless, upon presenting the Barbie to Alexis and congratulating her on making her goal, she said, "Thank you!" She paused before continuing, "I'm going to stay in my bed forever and ever."

My eyes popped open faster than Dora can get on my nerves. "Forever?" I asked.

"Yeah. I'm not going to get in your bed any more," she replied.

Any lawyers in the house? If I get her to sign a contract stating that she'll stay in her own bed, will it be binding in court? What if I have her sign it in blood?

 

Think. Then Talk.

It seems like it was in a different life, but I used to spend a lot of time at my aunt and uncle's house in Steubenville. I worked for their company that sold Jaguar parts, gave tours at their car museum, and helped out whenever necessary at their restaurant. It was an odd sort of arrangement that eventually blew up in spectacular fashion (as in, a massive fight on our wedding day that ended . . . ummm . . . very badly) (that's definitely a story for a different day). But, while I was in college, I pretty much spent every possible break there. It was "home" at a time when I was essentially a homeless college kid floating from dorm room to dorm room.

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"This is my friend, Kim," my aunt introduced me to the college-age woman in the back seat of the car. It was pretty much business as usual that she had someone with her that I didn't know. Between  employees from the restaurant and students from the local college where my aunt was a board member, it just sort of happened. I was a little annoyed that I was going to have to be at least a little polite during the hour-long car ride from the airport to my aunt's house in Steubenville, but oh well. It had already been a long day of travel, so another hour of misery wasn't going to kill me.

As we made our way down some windy, rural roads, small talk filled the car. They asked about my trip. We talked about the weather forecast. There was discussion about my time working at Disney World. For some reason, I ended up being the one doing the most talking.

Have I ever mentioned that I hate talking to people I don't know? Truly. Give me a room with 200 strangers and ask me to present, and I'm fine. But small groups or one-on-one? MISERY. I don't enjoy it at all. That might be because I have a habit of just blurting things out without considering the whole situation. I'm lacking that filter thing between my brain and mouth. As in, I wasn't born with it and every time I run to Target to buy one, they seem to be sold out.

Gradually the small talk made its way around to the events of the next day. I had returned to town just in time for an event with the Steubenville visitor's bureau.  We talked about the concert that was happening in the evening. We discussed the specials the restaurant was running. We debated just how long some of the tours would end up taking. As my aunt asked if I would mind working early in the morning, I remembered that the event included a speech by the reigning Miss America.

"Just don't make me help entertain that airhead," I said.

HELLO, STRANGE PERSON IN THE BACK SEAT.

Who wasn't an airhead at all.

But who was the reigning Miss America, Kimberly Aiken.

WHOOPS.

(She accepted my 18,492,204 apologies.)

(She was totally gorgeous in person. I'm just an idiot.)

(She was really very nice and very intelligent.)

(I'm the airhead. Obviously.)

(Thanks for helping get the Yinz Team marathon peeps to their goal. You can still donate here.)

Reactions and Excuses

It turns out I can hear a question 1,205,295 times before I scream, "FINE! DO WHAT YOU WANT!" Not that I was counting the number of times the husband and child asked if we could get another kitten. All those hashmarks in my closet were just my way of keeping track of how annoying the two of them can be.

Answer: VERY annoying.

The thing is that we have pretty much always had three cats, except for that brief time when we didn't because Coal was sick and was enough work in and of himself. I knew we would wind up back at three eventually, so the fact that I managed to delay adding that extra set of legs for as long as I did was sort of miraculous. In fact, the husband tried to suggest we get two kittens from Ali's litter when we got her, but I glared him silent.

Alexis, for her part, has asked for another kitten pretty much every day for the past year. She's been met with things like, "Wait until after Thanksgiving," and "Ask me after Christmas," and "Maybe if you mange to go two months without making me want to curl up in the fetal position and cry." She finally managed to beat me down so that I'd respond with, "FINE! DO WHAT YOU WANT!" after months and months of work.

So we spent the weekend driving from shelter to shelter looking for a kitten to adopt. The were no rules in the game, except that I insisted we get a kitten. Meg is very much so cool and the gang with kittens, but she might decide a grown cat looked like a tasty snack. It wasn't worth the risk.

The only problem with saying that there were no rules is that kids know how to exploit things like that. Alexis decided she didn't just want a kitten, she wanted the ugliest kitten that has ever set foot on this earth. I started calling the thing "Phantom" because, well, look:

Ugliest. Kitten. Ever.

And shoosh, yes it is possible for a kitten to be hideously ugly.

It's hard to tell from the crappy photo, but that thing was the Frankenkitten that only the Phantom of the Opera could love. It was actually Max's sister, and parts of her looked exactly like him. Half of her face was the same orange stripedness. Some spots on her body were perfect replicas of his orange stripey goodness. Her paws were orange and stripey and looked just like socks. The rest of her was black. It truly looked like someone had taken a bunch of kitten puzzles and used a sledgehammer to force them together. Her face was absolutely a replica of the Phantom of the Opera mask.

Creepy. And hideous.

And Alexis loved her.

Fortunately, once I laid down the law and said no ugly kittens were allowed (I'm a horrible human being. I know.), she was quick to decide on Max. It was a good thing, because Max also decided on her. That's to say, he seems to adore her. He follows her all over the house and turns into a pile of purring goo when she pays attention to him.

What Max doesn't like is the bowling ball with legs.

It probably has to do with the fact that Meg sounds like a lawnmower. Max arches his back and turns all poofy anytime Meg enters a room. Of course, a tiny kitten trying to scare away a loud-faced Bulldog with a little fur poofing is HIGH-LARIOUS.

Also HIGH-LARIOUS is the way Cody stalks Max. Cody is all, "Wanny play? How about now? Do you want to play? Will you play with me? Can we play? PLEEASE CAN WE PLAY? LEETT'S PLAAAAAY!"

Max is all, "Uh, go away."

And then there's Switzerland in the whole new kitten thing. Powder is the alpha of the house, a privilege earned the hard way as he is the oldest of the crew. At a whopping 15 years of age, he gets to assert his will in pretty much all situations. His thoughts on Max?

"Whatever."

"I just want his box."