I enter E's room at 8:30, the mother, to turn out her nightlights and strip her bed.
I feel a sudden shock, have a disconnect.
She is there. She is not in school. She is stretched out in her bed still, orange, striped, and furred, a changeling. A 15 pound feline changeling.
No lie. For that disconnect split second, it was her, not Rainbow Tom, in that bed. She was the cat she frequently pretends to be.
I have too much imagination, too much willing suspension of disbelief.
Pragmatic Momdom reasserts itself. RT is lucky that I intended to wash sheets today. Otherwise, he would find himself on the floor. Cats are not permitted to sleep directly on the sheets. I leave him to his rest (for now) and move on to strip our bed while my head ponders my next blog entry.
Frog Out
