The cat's in the cradle

No, we don't have an actual cradle. But we have a crib. He's in the crib. The cat.

I was putting way Helena's laundry late this afternoon when I espied a big black mass pulsating in the middle of her bed. Confusion, then shock. Calvino couldn't look happier!

I shooed him away but he was back within the hour. Once was cute, twice less so. This could be problematic.

He must've been plotting this for the last year. His agility really is remarkable. Don't tell my mother.

That song's been going through my head all evening — those are all the words I know (what do they mean exactly?) — and I had no idea what it was about till I looked it up just now. How sad.