A couple days ago, while walking to the center of the city, we stopped to drink from the water bottles that we had brought along. It was over 80 degrees out and we were melting. The sun was relentless and shade was a short pleasure from one big tree to the next.
We were like animals standing around a cool drinking spot as we watched Vilay pour water into one cup after the other letting the smallest (Petite Clown as Boy Blue had his bottle) drink first to the biggest (Vilay). We don’t share our water bottles (2 liters) with the babies who would much prefer to drink directly from the bottle. Petite Clown is the queen of backwashing…yuck! So, we bring plastic white cups along. It is worth the extra trouble due to the backwashing problem.
Each of us downed at least three cups full. Afterwards, Vilay started stacking them in an order we could all easily remember and know whos cup is whos. I figured it would be the same order we had drank in, smallest to biggest. Vilay started stacking the cups. First, Petite Clown’s then Sweet Bear’s underneath with Angel Girl’s under that one. So, I figured mine would be next, right? Logical. Not according to Vilay. In this case, he was logically stacking them according to age. I am a little over one month shy of being one year older than Vilay. He loves to rub it in any chance he gets. This happened to be such a chance.
He put his cup under Angel Girl’s with mine under his. The cups were stacked from the youngest, Petite Clown, to the oldest, Mama. Oh, Vilay and Angel Girl thought it so very funny. They were taking turns teasing and poking fun at me. Me? I could care less. Remember…I am the mature one in the family. Besides, I reminded my husband that since he just turned 35 this past month…we are, in fact, the same age. HA! Oh, and if I hadn’t been worried about needing the rest of the water for the walk back home, I would have done what any mature lady does when her age has been insulted. I would have gleefully drenched my dear husband as much as I could before he could manage to pull the water bottle from me!!!
We made a new friend along the way.
Sweet Bear is petting her first cat. She didn’t follow proper “cat manners” by letting the cat smell and rub her first. She learned a lesson! The cat scratched her out of anger for being petted like a common animal without being treated to proper introductions as any ordinary cat demands.
Here is the cat shortly after it scratched Sweet Bear and hid it’s face in shame (or from the heat of the sun) under a bush. Sweet Bear laughed, at first, and then the scratch began to smart. So, she cried. She told me, “Ce chat est mechant, Mama! (This cat is mean, Mama!)” I tried to explain that she had not been polite by letting the cat say hello first. However, she is still too young to understand all the little depths of a simple cat’s personality (which is not unlike our own).
Copyright © 2006 FROM MY FRENCH WINDOW. No photographs or content may be reproduced in any manner without express written permission given in advance.