Kittens!

I visited "the fam" back in Pierce and Norfolk on my last two "lazy" days. Big news at the farm, at least big news to 4 1/2 year old Amber, is that "Blackie", the spoiled cat who mom lets on the porch and feeds actual cat food (which, if you grew up on my farm, you'd know is a very big deal) has kittens!

Kittens make me feel seven years old again. Growing up, we always had a large crop of kittens every spring. At least one mama cat (sometimes two or three) had a litter of kittens. I spent the last days of school and the first days of summer vacation creeping around the hay loft, searching out the newest arrivals.

Once their eyes were open, the magic sign that the kittens were old enough to play with, I'd visit them at least once a day (if not more). I'd hold them and let them climb all over me. I'd try to stay still while they licked my toes, hoping they wouldn't sink their needle-sharp teeth in for a taste. I'd laugh as they crouched down, wiggling their bottoms, preparing to pounce on the straw I was wiggling or, better yet, an unsuspecting brother or sister.

I was not disappointed on Tuesday. There are three kittens: two black and white ones, yet unnamed, and one tiny black runt, aptly named "Squirt." Few things are cuter, in my humble opinion, than a kitten. And few things can take me back to "the good ol' days" quite like sitting on the barn floor, silently watching the kittens play.