The other day I put Ella down for her nap.
And she fussed, but only for a few minutes.
(This is our normal routine, but it still makes me nervous every time I lay her down... and I still do a tiny happy dance in the living room when she falls asleep without screaming at me.)
Anyway, she had skipped an earlier nap -lots of screaming that time around- so I knew she was extra tired and also extra cranky. Translation: she needed to sleep but wasn't terribly happy about it.
So, okay. I lay her down, she fusses, but then she quiets.
Per usual, I tip toe in and peek to see if she is just resting and preparing for an onslaught of screaming or if she is actually asleep.
In this case, her eyes are slits and she is still... so... juuuuuust about to fall asleep.
Normally this is excellent news and I can close the door, and retreat to the living room for chores, eating, etc.
Today though I realize that Olive Z Cat is in Ella's room.
To be more specific, she is on my desk eyeing the window.
The window that is right next to the crib.
Ok... I don't want to close the door with Olive in the room. (I have done that before on accident and when Olive decides she wants to leave the room she is not quiet with her request... an aborted nap and a screaming baby taught me this.)
"Olive" I whisper, "Come here kitty."
Because as we all know, cats are the epitome of obedience.
"Olive... " I made the little ticking sound we make to cats, "Come on..."
She ignored me.
She began to move toward the window.
The window in question has blinds and curtains and I know from past experience that in order for her to get to the sill she has to bumble her way through both. Not a quiet process.
"No!" I whisper-shout at her while glancing at Ella who has now begun to twitch, "Come HERE!"
She looks at me and then sloooowly starts to push the blinds open with one paw.
She's baiting me and I know it.
I drop to my knees and crawl across the room (If Ella can't see me, I can't wake her up... right?)
At the desk I look up at Olive.
She looks down at me.
"Shoo!" I whisper, flapping my hands at her.
"Now!" I whisper louder and my hand flapping become more manic.
She jumps over me and beelines for the safety of under the crib.
"Crap!" I say -no more whispering for me- and dive after her.
Five minutes later. Olive and I are in the living room both licking our wounds. (My licks are metaphorical.) Ella is flopping around in her crib, eyes open but blessedly still calm.
"If she wakes all the way up and screams at me I might just lock you in there with her." I tell Olive.
She gives me a withering look and stalks off to harass my yarn collection.