Emory loves to be chased. Whenever we’re out and he sees someone he knows, instead of saying hello, he shrieks and then runs in the opposite direction. It’s both adorable and weird. Nine times out of ten, the other child has no clue why this kid is running away from them. They just stand there dumbfounded. This is one of the best parts about raising a toddler. I enjoy picturing myself acting the same way toddlers do. I picture myself, a 35-year-old woman, gleefully screaming at a friend and then running away, or throwing myself on the ground after being told I can’t eat leaves. The life I’ve been living in my head has been awesome. I’m hoping Henry Selick will direct this life. I love this life.
Cats like to chase things. And if there’s one cat that should be chasing things, it’s my chubby teenage Murray. On Saturday, as Toby Joe dangled some twine from his chest while tying up some cardboard and coming this close to losing a very special body part, he had a brainstorm: cat toy, meet string; string, meet cat toy.
That was Saturday. And this is how our house has looked and sounded ever since.
No joke; he’s doing it right now. Pantless. (Not wise, on my behalf, but still.)
Toddlers and animals together are awesome.
Mihow 
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