I don't wanna eat the beets

Well. My holiday happened, and it was pretty cool. Got to hang out with my mom for a few days, which was nice. Cooking dinner was soothing and fairly low-key, and it all came together. So, that's nifty.

My mom's cat was pretty seriously sick starting last week, and had to be persuaded to eat anything, so mom brought the cat along for the visit.

Every few hours my mom would get some food and try to feed the cat, who wasn't very enthusiastic about it. Mom had to be fairly persuasive. So she'd be sitting there spoon-feeding the cat and making encouraging noises: "Here, have some of this, it's yummy...mmm, wasn't that good? Here, have some more...oh, what a good cat, you've had two whole bites! Isn't that good food, yum yum yum!"

The way mom was talking to the cat left me pretty disconcerted, and I finally realized that I was probably getting a little glimpse into my own distant past, one in which mom was trying to feed me out of a jar and I was unenthusiastic about eating the pureed beets.

So, yeah. Holiday both wonderful and informative in a disturbing way. Huzzah!