A Quiet Sunday Patio Reflection

3 kids and a cat and that is that.

A Quiet Sunday Patio Reflection

Gathered in the cozy patio, which is situated at the front of the house, were 3 kids from the neighborhood, commonly referred to as brats by those who know them well, were about to have a real life adventure close to hell. Since it was their parents patio room in a house owned by them, the children were free to do as they pleased. That is with the simple proviso, the tiny caveat that they play nice.

A small cat with gentle soft fur of black and white lay sleeping on a shelf ledge by a sun drenched window. The middle child called Joey, stretched out his left hand towards the cuddly creature in repose. He extended his index finger, middle finger and the next digit over to the left of the middle finger, (the finger which has no formal name) pressing them tightly together while he stroked the top of kitties head; starting at the top, precisely between the ears, moving his three fingers slowly down the entire length of the unsuspecting cat.

Joey’s actions infuriated the other 2 siblings. The youngest, a 4 year old girl with the one and only tooth in her head, which extended from the upper front right quadrant of her tiny mouth was highly visible as she began to yell at the top of her lungs. Before we get into that we want to mention a salient point about the protruding tooth of the child. We can not say with perfect certainty if the tooth in question was about to fall out or was growing back in. Now back to the yelling action. The little girl blushed with pink cheeks, which turned quickly into scorched earth red as she screamed, “Leave my kitty alone you selfish bone head!”

The oldest child called Ted, probably named after some stuffed animal “teddy” or a dead president or whatever, pointed an accusatory finger at Joey while casting a critical eye of discontentment; brow furled downward in a squint in his brother's direction for disturbing something that was not his. Spock could not have pulled it off any better.

None of these feeble theatrics could phase Joey in the least. He loved himself more than Jesus.

When he took the cat in hand and screamed “Earthquake!” in its little innocent ears while shaking the poor thing this way and that, the cat awoke, scratched him and bolted.

An epic argument ensued. The three started fighting like it was world war three when the mother came grumbling in. She put a stop to the rage with her own threats of violence. You can give a child all the weapons of war, all the engines of mass destruction, (over 80 billion dollars as a hypothetical example) and all the money in the US treasury to appease them but sometimes kids only understand one thing; a beating.

You know what they say; You can give the Taliban all the love and chocolate cake in the world but in the end you still have to give them what they need, a good beating. Even Joey knows that but he fell asleep and had dreams about defeating ISIS or icicles and kittens or something like that.