“The appointment’s over! Appointment over!” Clark cried as he streaked across the room like an orange blur, stopping only when he reached his high cat perch.

Clark is Adam’s cat familiar. Since Adam is a wizard, everyone in the family gets a familiar. Clark can talk and perform minor spells, but beyond that, he mostly offers cat-like commentary on the state of the household. Adam installed the perch so Clark would have a safe space away from the kids. He can usually be found there, despite genuinely loving them. He also loves having the option of frequent, uninterrupted naps.

When Monica sees him sleeping peacefully, she often glares at him in envy. She knows full well that even if she had her own quiet, private place to nap, it would probably go unused. That doesn’t mean she can’t be a little jealous from time to time.

James and Sophie had been brushing Clark’s fur. Most days they’re gentle about this ritual. Today, however, they decided to take it up a notch and play hairdressers. They were styling, spritzing him with water, and having the time of their lives. If Clark had been a normal cat, he would’ve left ages ago.

While all this was happening, I was half-watching Netflix and keeping an eye on Tara, my youngest, who is eleven months old. Out of what felt like nowhere, Clark fled the scene.

James and Sophie immediately positioned themselves beneath the perch, jumping and attempting negotiations to convince him to come down.

“You know they don’t know what appointment means,” I told Clark as I paused my show and slipped my phone away. The brief lull was officially over.

“Fine. How about, ‘No! Ouchie hair! No!’” he said, perfectly mimicking the whiny tone my kids use when they don’t like something or don’t want to do it. “You know, I could really use some of that mom-explaining help you do so well.”

I rolled my eyes, carefully holding back words best not heard by children who don’t yet know what big words mean.

“All right, kids. Clark needs a nap, and then he can play with you later.”

“Okay,” they both said. To my surprise, they accepted this without argument and wandered off to find something else to do.

James returned a moment later, picked up a tiny container from the floor, and walked back over to me. He handed it to me, but before I could even look inside, he announced, “Mom, we need more hair gel for Clark.”

I looked down. The container had once been full of Vaseline.

If this had actually gone into Clark’s fur, his day had just gotten significantly worse. I couldn’t wait to tell him.

“James,” I said calmly—astonishingly calmly, if I may add—“can you tell me where you got this?”

“Your room.”

“Where in Mommy’s room?”

“The floor.”

“Okay. Well, this isn’t for hair, all right? When you find something you don’t know what it is, let’s ask Mommy so she can tell you how to use it. If you need hair gel for Clark, I’ll give you some—in some really fun colors, too.”

“Okay, Mommy. Can I go get some pretzels?”

“Yes.”

He didn’t wait for anything else. He sprinted toward the kitchen, with Sophie right behind him. As they disappeared out of earshot, Sophie paused and walked back over to Clark’s perch.

That’s when Clark spoke.

“Do you know what hair gel they put in my fur?”

“Felt like shampoo,” he added thoughtfully. “Was it something else?”

“Yep.” I didn’t say another word. I just held up the container.

“You know they don’t teach us how to read,” he muttered.

“It’s Vaseline.”

He stared at the container for a solid ten seconds. I assumed he was working through the emotional math of the situation.

“Well,” he finally said, “there goes my afternoon.”

It was a much calmer reaction than I’d hoped for. I had already planned how I was going to tell Adam this story later, and Clark was ruining it by being mature. He began descending from the perch and headed down the hall. Now that I was really looking at him, I could see all the places his fur was slicked with Vaseline.

“You make this no fun by acting all grown-up!” I called after him.

“Oh, you’ll have plenty to tell during my adventures in the bathroom with my reluctant bath,” he shouted back. “I’ll be scrubbing this out all day!”

“You’re right!” I said, giggling. As I passed the bathroom, I flipped on the light for him. “Can I film it? I could use the money from YouTube. Also, you can’t talk in the video—people will think it’s AI.”

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