I hate to be a snitch (no I don't), but there was no working out yesterday by anyone, unless you consider addressing Christmas envelopes and packaging gifts exercise. Oh, and dad returned a redbox movie. And heated up some of Saturday's leftovers. And signed some cards. Okay, I guess they kind of worked out.
On a different front, the battle of the rocker continues. No matter where I'm sleeping, as soon as I see, or even hear mom getting up from her chair I lunge for it. It's especially comfortable when mom's butt has warmed it for me. Yesterday dad laughed heartily when I hopped out of his lap and aimed for the rocker, only to find mom racing me back to it. I stood my ground, sandwiched between the arm of the chair and mom's thigh, refusing to acknowledge defeat.
Sometimes I find their laughter offensive, but most times I tell myself that they're just two crazy humans that refuse to cater to my every whim and give in to the realization that I am in full control here.
Sorry, mom and dad, but you know I'm right. Oh shit, dad just put his book down and is heading this way. Bye.