17 August 2009

Letting the Cat out of the Spackle

Right now it looks like the closet belched its contents all over our living room. There are rolls of duct tape here, a pile of cords that looks like black and beige spaghetti there, foam paint brushes of various widths, notebooks from the early 1990s, and a red dinosaur bike helmet. There are also three cans of spackle. To a two-year-old, a container of spackle looks suspiciously like a container of Play-Do. Yesterday, Zora picked up the spackle and asked, "What's this?"

"Spackle," I told her.

Zora knit her eyebrows together and studied the container closely. She looked at me with concern.

"Peckles with mama? Peckles with mama? Meow, meow."

Meet Speckles (aka Peckles), the kitten we watched for two weeks while her mama was on an Alaskan cruise:

Rodney and I simultaneously: "Awww!"

Poor Zora. She thought that Speckles was trapped in that little container.

"Speckles is with her mama," I assured Zora. "This is spackle; we use it to patch the wall." I opened the container to show her the contents.

"Peckles with mama," Zora repeated, looking relieved.


Anonymous Simone V. said...

It's me, it's me holding "speckles" -- "with mama!" ahaah! Zora is SOO CUTE!

12:46 PM  

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