Kitten fever

We've all got it. Talk at our house has turned to kittens, and the girls have the worst of it.

This is because I decided I want a kitten for my birthday. My big girl is headed off to school, there's no more babies arriving and Fife is much too old to deal with a new puppy.

Plus, I sort of love cats.

Anyhow, the girls are all about helping me out in this endeavor. We got books from the library about taking care of kittens, and then we flip through the books and give each of the kitties a name. We talk about how cute kittens are and think about what it'll be like to have our very own super cute kitten living right here with us.

It's all very exciting.

Penelope, in particular, has come down hard with the kitten fever. Yesterday, before we went to the shelter to look at the dozens of kittens just waiting to be taken home (I now realize that any thoughts we had about maybe getting a kitten were killed by this visit), we were talking about the "possibility" of maybe getting me a kitten for my birthday.

"But Daddy," Penny says. "You don't want a kitten."

Well, he says, maybe it's not such a horrible idea.

"Well, if you want, we can go get you a kitten today."

Then she looks at me and give me a secret "thumbs up" sign to let me know she's taken care of the Daddy factor. She's got him.