A dark shadow of the future encroached on my evening last night. One of my cousins- one of the ones who can talk but doesn't want to, preferring to shriek instead- was getting out dominoes to play on the living room floor. She was informed that the living room floor had to be cleared off because the Teacher hadn't exercised yet. The dominoes were removed- kindly but firmly- and she decided that the best response to this situation was to press her face into the floor- but not so hard she couldn't be heard- and begin to scream.
Lest you think to praise me, let me say here that I was mostly, nay, entirely motivated by selfishness. She hadn't even begun to really get going yet, but I knew from sad experience just how much sound that her little lungs can produce. I leaped from my seat and picked her up. "This is not inside behavior," I said, making a beeline for the door, and raising my voice over the startled wails. I opened the door and deposited her on the porch. "You can come back inside when you're ready to be nice again." I shut the door in her face. We could still hear her screaming, but it was muffled by the door and tapered off sooner than it would have if she had been inside, because there was no one to admire her heroic vocal efforts. Plus we were watching a movie. She shut up and came inside. And no eardrums were sacrificed.
So yeah. I'm going to be a Mean Mom. There's no question. I'm just doomed.
But the kitties are cute. And now it looks like we get to keep both of them. They're named Macavity and Deuteronomy. If you wonder about those names, Google T.S. Eliot and look for Macavity: The Mystery Cat and Old Deuteronomy.