So, (as promised), I decided that La Doof Kitton, as abdication of his 'baby of the family' status, would announce that he was going to be a big brother...by wearing a t-shirt. (although forwarning now--there are no wonderful announcement pictures I love. They're amusing but the fates didn't cooperate)
Yes, for anyone not already in the know, we are adding our first 2 legged child to the mix.
The pets don't quite 'get' it yet--La Doof Kitton isn't sure he wants a new kitten in the house and El Gato is holding out on giving an opinion until after she determines how much milk is in the deal for her. And Dawg is still asking if it's a new puppy or a new kitten.
They'll understand eventually.
I 'made' a t-shirt (which is putting it very generously. I barely know how to sew. But I had a t-shirt I was using bits of for something else--I turned it inside out and sewed it 'smaller' and then painted "I'm gonna be a big brother" on it), pictured here:
Well, we put La Doof Kitton in the Mr's lap and showed him 'his' new shirt and he wasn't convinced. I tried my baby-sister's trick of telling him 'it will be FUN, I promise' and he wisely gave me the 'fun for WHO?' look in response (which is the only appropriate response).
So, we attempted to put the shirt on him.
I'm still forever confused as to how the bones of a cat turn into cooked linguine when you try to make them do things. I'm also forever confused as to how 4 feet and 1 mouth manage to make EVERY side of the cat pointy when you touch it.
(so, NO, there are no pictures of us getting him into the shirt--there were not enough hands)
So with the shirt on, La Doof Kitton decided that his legs no longer worked.
After trying repeatedly to stand him up...and failing (I'd pick him up, he'd be limp. I'd set him down on his feet and he'd give me the 'but MOM, there's a SHIRT, they don't WORK' look and flop down), I went to the craft cupboard to grab a poofball...
Ah, yes, the legs they work to get poofs.
Poof in hand (er, claw. Er, accurately, mouth), La Doof Kitton stalked about the office for a few minutes as the shirt proved to fit him less and less well...and he couldn't decide what to do about this new level of stress I was causing. The poof was wonderfully fun and needed to be played with--but the shirt was still causing his legs not to work. So he carried the poof the dark cave under the desk to hide his embarrassment.
At this point, I took pity on him and went through quite a struggle to remove the shirt without having him turn all pointy again. The fact that he got multiple poofs out of this ordeal is the only reason I'm not going to be sleeping with one eye open tonight.
So I think La Doof Kitton is beginning to understand what it may be like to be a big brother. It means weird upsets to routine and being dressed up. But does result in poofs and attention too.
Although he's still not as excited about the prospects as Mr. G and I are.