Being that I’m fostering a kitten that still requires milk, I had made up a batch of formula to keep in the fridge for frequent feedings. This is an important fact.
I’m in my room, working on my computer, when my 6 year old comes busting in, screeching in the highest octave she is capable of voicing, to inform me that her 8 year old brother had drank the kitten formula, thinking it was regular moo juice.
“He’s brushing his teeth so the formula won’t kill him.”
“He thinks it’ll kill him?”
“No, he doesn’t want to be a cat.”
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