"Who's that sitting under my chair?"
This was the question I heard Sydney squealing to me at about 11 pm last night (she had a late afternoon nap and after going out late to pick up McKenna from her band banquet, we were still up and around at midnight!).
"Who's that sitting under my chair?" she squealed excitedly, pointing to a chair at the dining room table. We peered under the tablecloth and there was our answer.
"It's Chit Chat," I said. "He's just hanging out. It looks like he found himself a good spot."
(Like all cats, Chit Chat likes to find the "perfect" spot to laze around. It's usually on top of one of the girls' beds, or in the window sill where the sun shines in. It seems, though, that the new holiday tablecloth drapes down perfectly for Chit Chat to find a just-the-right-sized hiding place.)
And Sydney just laughed and laughed and laughed at her cat.