It's just gone nine o'clock. Mum and I are in the kitchen, the Step Daddy is in the living room, trying not to have anything to do with us. We're both tired, and giggly. The oldest of the cats is in her basket. The smallest is picking over the remains of a fish pie. The other two are violently staring at the one that got to the pie first, and are silently plotting ways to send him to a speedy demise, without damaging the fish.
Mum is sat next to the fire, with a text book about the history of art on her lap, which she's doing a very poor job of reading. I'm sat on the floor with the cats, in a small blanket pyramid while eating some jelly. The cats edge closer to the pie.
"Bob. Bob." Mum waves at the cats. "Bob. Look, Bob." She waves her pencil up and down, in the manner of one trying to make it look like it's made out of rubber. She drops it, and it hits a cat on the head. He doesn't notice - there's pie to be had. I laugh, snort, inhale jelly, and the sneeze it onto a cat. Mum bursts out laughing, and tries to grimace. "Gross. Now shut up, I'm trying to be grown up."
We both laugh for ten minutes straight.
Neither of us notice the cats clubbing the smaller one over the head, and loading the pie into a transit van, before driving away.
No comments:
Post a Comment