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The Whirlwind was (finally) abed. Peace and contentment abounded. Beloved Husband has Tuesdays off, so we were enjoying a few moments of grown-up conversation, with me telling him the most interesting bits of new science/medical/archaeology abstracts that I was finding on-line, him playing a fairly old-style computer game [Empire] while the two of us were keeping half an eye on the NHL playoffs. The Siamese cat came strolling up to get some love and attention.
Something was wrong. Seal Point Siamese come in dark brown and cream, one shading into the other, with white on the tummy. They do not usually have goopy dark pink splotches. Something was wrong.
I gave the cat to Beloved Husband to wipe down with paper towel, and see what could be removed. I went upstairs to The Whirlwind's room, where the light was on.
"I told you if I found your light on after hours, the bulb would be confiscated, so that's gone," I said, "And where is the lipstick you stole from your sister and used on the cat?"
I saw the thing and picked it up, and waited for her answer. Ever seen Jack O'Neill caught red handed deny it absolutely?
"What lipstick?" said The Whirlwind. "Didn't do anything with lipstick!"
This was especially unconvincing since she had pink all over what she was wearing, her stomach, her neck, and in the general time zone of her lips. And I was holding the container that used to hold the lipstick, and its lid, and the pink-smeared tissues she'd tried to clean up a bit with. She's ten. The only way this could be less convincing was if she was a 6'2" fifty-ish male.
My expression registered Highly Dubious on the upper end of the scale.
"Well, maybe a little," she said.
"Go down and report to Daddy," I said, and took the lipstick to Middle Daughter.
"Is this the only one missing?" I said.
She checked.
"Whirlwind!" I called down "Where is the other one you took?"
"In the bottom drawer!" She answered.
At least there was some left of that one.
She and Beloved Husband spent half an hour sliming her with canola oil and wiping lipstick diluted with canola oil off her body. Eventually, she was deemed sufficiently unlikely to ruin clothing enough to don a different outfit and head off to bed, still rather pink, but no longer contagiously so.
The poor patient 16 year old cat has finally, finally grown her whiskers back from the trim The Whirlwind gave her some 6 months ago. The fur under her neck has finally almost grown back from the shave the vet gave her to be able to draw blood for testing back in December, when she went down to less than 4 lbs. and almost died. Now she's going to be splotches of pink for a while. The vet's gonna love that one when we see her at the end of the month.
Have I mentioned that we have forbidden The Whirlwind any makeup, no matter how innocuous and easy to remove, and told Middle Daughter that she needs to keep hers locked up, so that this sort of incident can't happen? That we have provided Middle Daughter with a lock box, which she occasionally uses?
Space aliens. I tell ya', I live with space aliens.
Something was wrong. Seal Point Siamese come in dark brown and cream, one shading into the other, with white on the tummy. They do not usually have goopy dark pink splotches. Something was wrong.
I gave the cat to Beloved Husband to wipe down with paper towel, and see what could be removed. I went upstairs to The Whirlwind's room, where the light was on.
"I told you if I found your light on after hours, the bulb would be confiscated, so that's gone," I said, "And where is the lipstick you stole from your sister and used on the cat?"
I saw the thing and picked it up, and waited for her answer. Ever seen Jack O'Neill caught red handed deny it absolutely?
"What lipstick?" said The Whirlwind. "Didn't do anything with lipstick!"
This was especially unconvincing since she had pink all over what she was wearing, her stomach, her neck, and in the general time zone of her lips. And I was holding the container that used to hold the lipstick, and its lid, and the pink-smeared tissues she'd tried to clean up a bit with. She's ten. The only way this could be less convincing was if she was a 6'2" fifty-ish male.
My expression registered Highly Dubious on the upper end of the scale.
"Well, maybe a little," she said.
"Go down and report to Daddy," I said, and took the lipstick to Middle Daughter.
"Is this the only one missing?" I said.
She checked.
"Whirlwind!" I called down "Where is the other one you took?"
"In the bottom drawer!" She answered.
At least there was some left of that one.
She and Beloved Husband spent half an hour sliming her with canola oil and wiping lipstick diluted with canola oil off her body. Eventually, she was deemed sufficiently unlikely to ruin clothing enough to don a different outfit and head off to bed, still rather pink, but no longer contagiously so.
The poor patient 16 year old cat has finally, finally grown her whiskers back from the trim The Whirlwind gave her some 6 months ago. The fur under her neck has finally almost grown back from the shave the vet gave her to be able to draw blood for testing back in December, when she went down to less than 4 lbs. and almost died. Now she's going to be splotches of pink for a while. The vet's gonna love that one when we see her at the end of the month.
Have I mentioned that we have forbidden The Whirlwind any makeup, no matter how innocuous and easy to remove, and told Middle Daughter that she needs to keep hers locked up, so that this sort of incident can't happen? That we have provided Middle Daughter with a lock box, which she occasionally uses?
Space aliens. I tell ya', I live with space aliens.
