The wonderful thing about Tiggers
Is Tiggers are wonderful things.
Their tops are made of rubbers
The bottoms are made of springs.
Fun, fun, fun, fun, FUN!!!
She’s quite at home these days, and she wants to play. And play. And play. First thing in the morning, she’s dashing up and down the hall. She pounces on my hairbrush. She attacks my shoelaces. She literally climbs the walls—the light or shadow of something on a high shelf intrigues her, and she keeps trying to jump up to catch it.
She’s been very attached to me (can’t help it, I’m a cat magnet) and somewhat skittish of the boys. Particularly Alpha Geek and The Artist, because they’re both very tall, and tall = scary. Once they sit down she’ll come over, but when they’re standing she skitters away. She’s also been wary of The Director, because he’s a wiggly, energetic, in-your-face kind of kid and she’s not used to any kind of kid.
She has greatly warmed up to The Director, though, because she’s discovered that he’s the one person in the household who has the energy to play with her as much as she wants. He’ll run the laser pointer for as long as she’s willing to chase it. He improvises toys by tying Lego tires onto string for her. He drags things for her to chase and dangles things for her to catch.
If I could only bottle their energy, I’d be a millionaire, I tell you.