Turn, turn, turn

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There’s a swing in our backyard hung from a fruit tree and during the spring a blanket of blue flowers unfurls on the ground below it. I used to always find Dylan there, not actively swinging but sort of idling back and forth, his face tilted to the sky and his eyes focused on some childhood dreamscape I couldn’t quite see.

No one uses the swing any more, unless the boys’ little cousin comes over. They play basketball now, for hours at a time. Thwack thwack thwack, then broingggg as the ball careens off the backstop.

Dylan can tell you the final score of nearly any NBA game you ask for. No hesitation whatsoever. Golden State vs Rockets? 106 to 110. Grizzlies vs Golden State? 78-98. Bulls vs Cavaliers? 101-106. Oh unless you were asking about game two, because that was 91-106. My memory’s so unreliable this seems like a skill on par with witchcraft.

If they’re not shooting hoops, they’re talking about Pokémon cards. This guy does this damage, that guy does that damage, this one EVOLVES. I must note that no one actually plays any sort of game with these cards, they just obsess over their collection and plot ways to trade with their friends.

Minecraft has mostly been left behind, Wild Kratts abandoned in favor of sports highlight reels. Outside, pollen coats the empty swing seat. The blue flowers are gone, but there’s no use mourning their absence. New growth is happening everywhere.


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About a week ago, a small cat started hanging around our yard. She was skittish at first, but we managed to get close enough to pet her and look for a collar. As soon as she figured out there was no need to be afraid, she set up shop at our front door. I put out some food and water, and hoped her owner would find her soon.

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We emailed the neighborhood, I checked local listings for missing cats, and I posted a notice on Craigslist. Meanwhile, Porch Cat — as we’d begun calling her — made herself comfortable.

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Eventually we started letting her inside, because 1) we’re suckers, and 2) leaving her on the front porch kind of felt like we were forcing her to prove her devotion to Cat Fight Club.

Porch Cat became Tiny Cat. I worried that the existing pets would get aggressive with her, but it turns out she’s quite capable of holding her own.

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Now, I figured Tiny Cat wasn’t fully grown, but JB pointed out that she had a suspiciously rounded tummy.

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Well maybe she’s just a little pudgy there, I said hopefully. But the vet confirmed it today: Tiny Cat is going to have Tiny Kittens.

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So now we just need to figure out where she can give birth, foster NEWBORN KITTENS for eight weeks, then find homes for them all. This should be awesome.

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