He likes to bat about and chase small rattling balls and he loves to play with string. He reserves his biggest smiles and squeals of delight for Hippo and Crazy. The first time he crawled up the stairs, it was to follow a cat. And now, long before there’s any sign of mama or dada or mami or papi, the kid meows when the cats do. Guess that’s what I get for giving him the pseudonym Gatito, huh?
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BTW, I love when people comment on his gorgeous hair. I’m just sick of answering questions about its provenance.
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Heh. Tell ‘em Daddy was a red tabby.
(We have a beautiful purebred red tabby Manx whose fur is the SAME COLOR as your son’s beautiful hair. What a color!)
Heh. Tell ‘em Daddy was a red tabby.
(We have a beautiful purebred red tabby Manx whose fur is the SAME COLOR as your son’s beautiful hair. What a color!)
Ha! You did call him “gatito” did you not?
Ha! You did call him “gatito” did you not?
Ha! You did call him “gatito” did you not?
One of my cousins has red hair, and both of her parents are brunetts–yeesh. The provinance is recessive genes!
Why do people ask such obvious questions?