Late for Pointe

So Squish had soccer today--and then was going to go to pointe. At four o'clock she started to cry--helpless little sobs.

"Honey?"

"Mom. It's like all my teachers gave me extra homework just because they know I have no life on Wednesday night!"

"That's okay hon. You don't have to go to pointe class. Dad will take you. I'll take ZoomBoy. We'll meet back home at the end."

Poor sausage. She's works so hard!

Anyway, as we were getting ready to leave pointe class ZoomBoy and I had the following conversation.

"Mom, you know, maybe if we could leave about twenty minutes earlier..."

I grunted. "Do you know why we were late today?"

"Because you didn't wake up until late."

"Do you know why my nap went over?"

"No."

"Because I had to answer some e-mails. Do you know why I didn't answer those e-mails this morning before I went to class?"

"No."

"Because I was posting to local websites, printing up posters, moving the litter box outside, moving your laundry outside, and calling the chip company and the vets."

"Oh."

"Do you know why I was doing all that?"

"To find the cat?"

I grunt. "Be specific. To find WHAT cat?"

ZoomBoy smirks. "To find the cat that I found in the garage right before your nap."

I nod. "That's right. To find the ------ing cat that you found in the -----ing garage right before my ----ing nap."

"So..."

"So if we can not lose the ----ing cat, I can get my nap in time and you can get to pointe class."

You may wonder why I'm not actually saying "fucking cat". That's because we're having this conversation in the classroom itself, and the mother/daughter next to us can hear the whole thing.

They are losing their fucking shit.

By the way, we found the fucking cat.

He's fine.

Steve is pretending she's was never worried.