I've got a roomful of toddlers. Or so it seems.

I'm trying to fix breakfast. There is a slight problem with this,
however - I have four cats in the kitchen. Since Little Boy came in,
everyone wants to make sure I still like them or something.

Little Boy and Buster are eating from the two bowls, which are right
by the dishwasher. All the dishes I need are in the dishwasher.

So I carefully unload the dishwasher while Dulce Mae supervises by
sticking her head inside, and occasionally swats at a plate.

Little Feet is stalking the containers of butter and pancake syrup,
and testing the plates for cleanliness, with his paw. He assures me he
just washed that paw.

Dulce Mae is now in the sink, demanding that I start a drip of water
for her, while Buster accidentally dips his nose in the water bowl,
and sneezes.

Little Boy is rubbing against my legs.

When I open the oven to heat some Eggo waffles, Buster start to put
his nose in, to see what's in the oven. I balance waffles in one hand,
move Buster with a foot, and grab Little Feet, who is looking into the
oven from on top the range.

Dulce has finished her drink, and is telling Little Boy that she
hates boy cats. Little Boy ignores her cussing, and sniffs Buster, who
flinches back and glares at Little Boy.

Now I've got Buster on the counter too, and he's sniffing the butter.
I put the lid on it, and set the timer for five minutes.

I walk out of the kitchen, with four cats in my wake.

Whew!

Mark Edwards