A few weeks ago, I was trying to tell Fred about this little girl with schizophrenia. Her parents, in an attempt to protect her 18 month-old brother, traded in their apartment for two smaller apartments, and her parents will switch off taking care of her.
I cannot begin to imagine what it’s like for them.
Anyway, I was telling him about her, and as part of the telling, I said “It’s apparently impossible to overstimulate her, her parents would have to take her out and do as much with her as possible, take her around people. You know how little kids get overstimulated if too much is thrown at them?”
“No,” Fred said, which I suppose is reasonable. He’s never spent much time around little kids – the spud was 8 when we moved down here.
“Yeah, they get overstimulated if they do too much, and… Well, when the spud was little, if we’d have her out too late or do too many things in the course of a day, she’d get overstimulated, and then it’d get to the point where she’d have to burst into tears before she could calm down. It didn’t happen a lot, but when it did, there was nothing you could do to calm her down – the tears would have to come, and then the calming down would begin. But this little girl who’s schizophrenic, there’s no such thing as too much stimulation for her.”
“That’s like me!” Fred said. “Maybe I’m schizophrenic! I always need stimulation!” Fred cannot just sit around and relax, he always has to be occupying his mind one way or the other. Even watching TV, he does Sudoku puzzles at the same time.
“Oh PLEASE,” I scoffed. “The doorbell rings with someone coming to buy eggs, that’s overstimulation for you.”
“And then I have to burst into tears before I can calm down,” he smirked.
“Exactly.”
A little while ago, Amy emailed me and said she really wanted to send me a box for the fosters. I emailed her back and said, in effect, “Oh, I’m not even going to pretend like I wouldn’t love that!”
And then I completely forgot.
The box arrived yesterday morning, and I looked at it and thought “Huh. Did I order something…?” I opened it, and looked in, and realized it was the box Amy had sent. I wanted to do a pictorial of the kittens “opening” the box and taking out the toys, but I had to run to Walmart first, so I put the box up on the counter.
Half an hour later when I got home, one of the big cats had pushed the box off the counter, and there’d been a free-for-all. I gathered the toys back into the box and called all the kittens into the kitchen so we could do it properly.
“Hey, look! A box! And toys!”
Ten seconds later, the toys are scattered everywhere, and Hoyt’s like “A box! I LOVE BOXES!” Note that Elwood’s right in the middle of everything. He truly believes he’s a True Blood.
Lafayette enjoys a good snootful of catnip. (These knit toys stuffed with catnip are VERY popular, as you can imagine!)
“Also, I love crinkly paper!” See the red ball to the left of the picture? It lights up, and the kittens think it’s very cool.
Elwood’s all “I LOVE TOYS! MINE!”
Chasing the flashing ball around. I don’t know which they like more – the fact that it flashes, or the sound it makes when it rolls along the hardwood floor.
Sam says “Crinkly paper and a feather toy! O joy!!!”
Bill, in a state of fluffy-toy rapture.
I also took several of the smaller toys in for the Wonkas to enjoy, and enjoying them they certainly are. I haven’t gotten a picture of the little ones playing, but trust me – I will!
The True Bloods, the Wonkas, Jake & Elwood and I think you are awesome Amy – thank you!!!
Tomorrow, the Wonkas are going to the vet for their Combo testing. I’ve never had fosters test positive, and I would really like it if that tradition continued. Y’all send a happy thought or two toward Alabama tomorrow morning, okay?
“I HAZ A COMPLAINT. IT IS MY TURN TO SIT IN YOUR LAP, AND VIOLET IS TAKING UP SPACE AND I AM NOT HAPPY ABOUT THIS TURN OF EVENTS.”
“My god, I am trapped in this cage, I will be trapped in this cage forever WHY HAVE YOU FORSAKEN ME?!” (Note the wide-open door RIGHT THERE. Maybe not the brains of the operation, our wee Violet.)
“And now I have litter on my nose. Why, God, WHYYYYY?”
Prince Gus, sitting atop the stuffed Momma kitty.
I really need to get more pictures of Mike. He’s such a pretty boy. This is such a pretty litter. I can barely stop myself from squishing them.
Floofy Gus. I like to twist the hair on top of his fuzzy little head together and tell him he’s a troll doll.
“Lady, you gives me the bottle, and no one gets hurt. Promise!”
Gracie on the left, George on the right.
Previously
2008: And he likes the chickens, but I think if a hawk swooped down and snatched one up while he was watching, it would make his YEAR.
2007: No entry.
2006: No entry.
2005: 9. What is your biggest mistake? Immediately believing what I’m told without standing back and thinking about it.
2004: Reader requests.
2003: Why have kids if you aren’t going to make them do the scut work?
2002: You know, I don’t even have the words.
2001: No entry.
2000: No entry.