They Are Bad Cats.
All of our baby stuff has been stashed in our bedroom, in the corner, waiting to be assembled in time for BSparl. And then this hospitalization issue came up, and now Chris is left at home to build the nursery in my absence. He's been putting things together one at a time - the pack and play, the stroller, the bouncy chair, the swing, the changing table - and keeping them all carefully stored in our bedroom, waiting for the baby and I to come home and figure out where all the stuff should go.
"We just need to find a way to keep the cats off this stuff." I said.
"Absolutely. I don't want them going anywhere near the baby's bed or anything. We need to train them to stay away, but for now, I'll just keep everything in the bedroom with the door closed." He responded.
We shared a mental fistbump over this plan, firm in our resolve to keep those pesky furballs away from our daughter's new toys. But a mere few hours later, he sent me this photo:
Prussia nestled happily into the bouncy chair, and Siah napping in the pack and play.
With the caption: "Unbelievable." It appears that the baby shower was just a party to provide cat toys. (If I could find the photo of fat cat Abby sleeping in the car seat, I'd post that, too. In it, she looks like she's ready to go to the Wendy's drive through for tasty chicken nuggets.)
These critters will be learning a hard lesson a week from today.