Easter Ick

I had just sat down to publish a blog for my wonderful friend Megan when I was unexpectedly attacked on the buttocks by a very small, very pointy, and very feisty pair of choppers. That's right, Cosmo bit me on the butt! Here is a picture of him looking demurely innocent...

...hmm...nah, it couldn't have been him. Mighta been Sebby...

Speaking of Cosmo, he wanted me to share his Easter eggsperience with you.

Sebby has a wild and crazy preoccupation with Peeps. This guy really lives on the edge peep-wise. Instead of tearing of one peep and slowing consuming it in a state of contemplative tolerance he will pull out an entire row (out of one of many three or four rowed boxes) and take bites out of the whole log. Not my idea of fun. But whatevs. So he's really built up this reputation and is gloriously showered with peeps all easter season and any other season for which peeps can be shaped. Hannah and Miguel are the ringleaders in this sport and gifted him with a large easter basket stocked with several boxes of peeps, peep bubbles, and peeps that light up in such a way that I either want to take them to a rave or wear them in my belly button on the fourth of July. They also gifted us with easter grass. Now, easter grass is not something that I have come into contact with very many times in my life as it is a bane in my mother's. It gets all over the house and keeps showing up until next easter. Despite the skepticism with which I viewed this component of the gift, I decided to live dangerously and allow it to remain in the basket.

I'm bumming in front of the TV, leaving the basket unguarded behind me. Enter Cosmo. I hear rustling...is he after peeps? Does he want me to blow him more peep bubbles? He doesn't have a belly button and he doesn't have a girlfriend so he can't be after the bling peeps...

"COSMO! We don't eat easter grass! Plegh! Spit it out! Come here! No! Yucky! Easter grass is not for cats...Cosmo!"

I succeed in stealing the strands hanging from his chin and shoo him away from the basket. But he won't stay out of it! I kept shooing him away wondering what is so great about easter grass that makes him want to munch on it. I get to wondering so much at his persistence that I dubiously stick a strand in my own mouth...yep, just plastic. It's not the edible kind. I feel stupid.

I tuck all the easter grass underneath the gifts on top so that nary a strand is left to entice my strange feline. A job well done. I return to my episode of FRIENDS. Again with the rustling, again with the baby cat and human mama exchange. This time I tuck every strand into a target back and dispose of it in the trash. AND I watch him. He looks around and sniffs for his lost treat. After determining that I had been thorough this time he looks at me with loving eyes and starts kissing me, and purring, and chirping...but I'm cold. COLD! I leave my TV for Anne of Green Gables in the bedroom. I come out for a glass of water and see him sitting on the floor looking confusedly at a little puddle of ick. He looks at me with his sad sad "I prew up" face. I offer him sympathy, but not without tacking on a matronly adage. "That's why we don't eat easter grass, Bebe Coz."

After cleaning up his sad little mess and getting him a drink of water I went and hunted down the strands of easter grass that had mysteriously appeared under the table.

The moral of the story? Easter grass truly is a bane! That, and you'll feel stupid if you taste inedible easter grass, even if you're home alone.