A Post Without Direction

I recently switched from yahoo to gmail, and I gotta tell you, I really love it. I've had a Yahoo account since 2000 and I used to be very satisfied with it and then slowly more and more spam kept slipping through and more and more of the mail I actually wanted was going into the spam folder. But so far all my gmail has gotten are warm fuzzies from my friends and family. I also like how it stacks up all the replies into one conversation so you can keep track of everything that was said without even leaving the current email. Small things make me happy.

And speaking of small things, I want to talk about my weirdo son. If you've met Boy you'd know that in preschool he could name every car on the street. Then he got sick of cars and started liking animals. It was because of him that I discovered one of my favorite creatures the Axolotl, which often looks like a happy little clown (and not an evil, scary clown, but one you would really like to know). Had it not been for Boy, I would have utterly missed the existence of these wonderful creatures and would have been a less happy person. My point though is that, despite his love for looking at the animals in the zoo, Boy was really pretty afraid of animals.

Then we got Mr. Giles and Boy suddenly believed that dogs were okay really, but he still believed that cats were the spawn of Satan and he didn't want anything to do with him. For the most part I really get that. He spent most of his life horribly allergic to cats. When Mr. Hobbitfeet and I got engaged, and I finally allowed them to spend time together, Boy stepped into Mr. Hobbitfeet's condo with its eleven-year-old, elephant-sized cat and immediately turned into a red, puffy, snot ball. So when Mr. Hobbitfeet moved in with us, Gracie had to go.
But after two and a half years of allergy shots, I thought he'd be okay giving it a go. I was dealing with some hardcore baby fever that wasn't likely to be sated, and damn it I wanted a kitten. So we got one. When I told Boy we were getting a kitten, he freaked out. He was mad. He absolutely did not want it.
Guess how Boy spends his day now. Following that cat around, picking it up whenever he can. He puts it on his head and says, "Do you like my hat?" He puts it on his face and says, "Do you like my moustache?" He videotapes it sleeping. He is nuts about our little Willow, and he hasn't had a single problem with his allergies.