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As I take my first sip of Merlot, I pray for an evening without incident.  Having children is wonderful, but not all the time.  I settle in and crack open a new book.  Within seconds, my daughter walks by with the cat in tow.  The cat is in a plastic bag.  “Honey, why is the cat in a plastic bag?” I ask.  I try to ask in a non-judgemental way, because I don’t want a fight, I just want to clarify that the intention is not to hurt the cat.  “The cat wanted to see what is was like to ride in the Popemobile, so I’m taking him around the house in a catmobile.”  There is no actual rolling of the eyes, but I’m sure it’s implied.  I scan surreptitiously to make sure that there is a hole large enough for the cat to breathe, but not to large as to escape.  Provided the cat doesn’t freak out, this should afford me at least 45 minutes of uninterrupted “me” time.  Satisfied, I go back to my book and my wine, saying simply. “I see.  Carry on then.”

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