Kittens House of Random

My son is a gentle giant. He does not realize his own strength. When he picks up a cat she goes airborne if he's not restraining himself.

I was in my office working today when my cell rings. It's son.

"Yes?" I said with the indignant irritation of a Mom who realizes it's only twenty footsteps from where you are to me.

"Um, Mom?"

Again, "yes, son?"

"Do I have permission to break my door down?"

Now, under normal circumstances this would be an alarm raising question. Just picture yourself as the surprise recipient of such a request.

But this is Arbitrary Kittens house of Random. Just another day.

"No, you may not break down your door." I tell him with all the nonchalance of a platypus in a river. "Why, what's up?"

Son answers with the same pristine level of non urgency. "Oh, the handle came out in my hand and I'm locked in."

Again, in any other household this would be cause for chaos. But 'round here, this is just another day at the office.

"Ok," I tell him, "I'll be there momentarily."

I finish editing the paragraph I'm on, set down my laptop, and stroll down the hall. The doorknob is dangling. I go in search of a tool- screwdriver. Wrench, perhaps? Hell, even a nail? Alas, tools are about as commonly found in my house of testosterone as an albino fox in a rooster field.

I finally make do with items fitting my name and free the boy. He is just sitting there, playing on his phone, oblivious to the fact he could have been trapped in that teenage body odor wasteland for hours had his Mama not been so good at breaking into things that she would have made a most excellent cat burglar.

He tells me thank you and continues to play on his phone, not having moved an inch.

I wander back to my office and daydream how good I would have looked in a shiny black bodysuit and matching mask had I followed my true calling.