Friday Highlights

Our story begins when our heroine, after driving her daughters through torrential rains and grumpy fits for four hours returns home and starts to feed them. Again. The Hunter/Gatherer returns home to have his daughters thrust at him, while our heroine retreats to the bedroom to have a snack and enjoy a few minutes of solace before making dinner. The Hunter/Gatherer procedes to feed his daughters bottles and something sticky (applesauce?).

Our heroine has just climbed into bed. Her trusty gray cat has assumed his position with his rear end approximately 6" from her face. As her eyes were closing, she notices the pale yellow/white tube-like thing protruding from said asshole. Eyes snap open, procedes to carry trusty gray cat, ass first, downstairs towards the Hunter/Gatherer.

After changing the litter, the Hunter/Gatherer proclaims there not to be any worms. We procede to prompt the gray cat to make haste (yelling "Poop! Damn you!" doesn't work really well, but amused said daughters).

As our heroine researches various worms and parasites, the decision is made to just wait it out a little. Our heroine retreats back upstairs, the Hunter/Gatherer back down to the girls. Our heroine climbs back into bed, eyes about to shut, when the trusty gray cat assumes the position. Our trusty heroine decides she is not in the mood to wait, so, gray cat ass-forward in tow, she seeks out the Hunter/Gatherer.

Bravely, the Hunter/Gatherer starts the extrication process while our heroine holds down the trusty gray cat, who really isn't fussing that much. Do to limited visability, our heroine cannot see what is happening down cat, but can see the amused/horrified/impressed look on the Hunter/Gatherer's face.

Apparently, the trusty gray cat decided it would be a good idea to eat....a bristle from a kitchen broom. A corn broom. With about 12-18" bristles. At least it came out in one piece.

As the Hunter/Gatherer goes off to wash his hands for 20 minutes, our heroine goes down to rescue a screaming child. Only to find that the Hunter/Gatherer had made a couple of tragic flaws:

1. Not washing the older daughters hand as well as he could have
2. Giving said daughter a large, black, skunk puppet to play with.

Our heroine hauls the elder daughter back up to the kitchen sink, where she spends the 15 minutes dehairing her daugther. Think of a furry tarbaby, and you have the idea. Nothing quite like hosing down a grinning, excited sugar fiend with black fur stuck to her face. And hands. And feet. And neck. And somehow in her diaper.

Approximately an hour and a half after our heroine tries to retreat to her bedroom, her eyes finally close. In bed, even.