Ah, kittens.  I had forgotten how mischievous they can be.  Our little boy Blue is finding the confines of his nursery (our bathroom) not to his liking and wants to get out and stomp with the big dogs (or wolfies, in our case).  I know he would be fine but I would rather be safe than sorry.  He could get stuck or hide and frankly Mama’s just too tired for that.  So I can sleep soundly knowing he is safe in the bathroom while he is still so tiny.  Apparently he had a party last night.  I woke up to an entire roll of unravelled toilet paper, strewn about all over the place, with him looking up at me like an angel.  The American essayist Agnes Repplier once wrote:

“A kitten is chiefly remarkable for rushing about like mad at nothing whatever, and generally stopping before it gets there.”

And he most certainly is running madly about, wanting to explore and discover.  When I was in junior high I always wished I had a house so that it could get toilet papered.  I thought the rolls billowing in the wind looped magically around the trees had a certain grace to it.  I have gotten to experience a lot since having a house, but I never thought our first toilet papering would be an inside job.