Angry Cuteness
Even when the Lynxcub is upset and/or angry, he's freakishly cute, although sometimes in a slightly disturbing way. Some things he has said lately when Not Happy:
Over the course of a prolonged struggle to get him into his winter coat:
"I don't like my winter coat any more! I want to break it! I want to break it and throw it away! I want to throw it in the street and make it dirty! I want to throw it up on top of this building!"
Partly out of curiosity and partly to distract him, I asked how he would do that:
"I would get a big long rope with a hook on the end and throw it all the way up there until the rope was tight and then put it at the very top!"
And later, when having to put on said coat again, to go home after the visit:
"I want to break it into little pieces and throw the threads at cars!"
On a similar note, when trying to get him re-dressed after he had insisted on taking off most of his clothes:
"I don't like my jeans! I don't like my old jeans or my new jeans! They're too uncomfortable!"
I asked if he had any pants he did like:
"No! I don't like any pants at all! I want to break all my pants! I want to break my pants and my shirt and my socks and my boots and my coat and my hoodie! I want to break all my clothes!"
When asked how he felt at times when a grownup had yelled at him for something he didn't do (this was in the context of me trying to impress upon him why he shouldn't yell at Kiska when she hadn't done anything wrong):
"I would push the grownup down and cut the grownup into little pieces and eat the grownup!"
. . .
And, in less angry forms of cuteness, he was looking in the cupboard where I put Lego stuff we've made to keep it safe between his visits, and asked why I'd put the duck up on top of the farmhouse. I told him that ducks are birds and maybe it flew up there. He gave me A Look, and said, very patiently, as though explaining things to a slow learner, "Lego can't fly!"
Over the course of a prolonged struggle to get him into his winter coat:
"I don't like my winter coat any more! I want to break it! I want to break it and throw it away! I want to throw it in the street and make it dirty! I want to throw it up on top of this building!"
Partly out of curiosity and partly to distract him, I asked how he would do that:
"I would get a big long rope with a hook on the end and throw it all the way up there until the rope was tight and then put it at the very top!"
And later, when having to put on said coat again, to go home after the visit:
"I want to break it into little pieces and throw the threads at cars!"
On a similar note, when trying to get him re-dressed after he had insisted on taking off most of his clothes:
"I don't like my jeans! I don't like my old jeans or my new jeans! They're too uncomfortable!"
I asked if he had any pants he did like:
"No! I don't like any pants at all! I want to break all my pants! I want to break my pants and my shirt and my socks and my boots and my coat and my hoodie! I want to break all my clothes!"
When asked how he felt at times when a grownup had yelled at him for something he didn't do (this was in the context of me trying to impress upon him why he shouldn't yell at Kiska when she hadn't done anything wrong):
"I would push the grownup down and cut the grownup into little pieces and eat the grownup!"
. . .
And, in less angry forms of cuteness, he was looking in the cupboard where I put Lego stuff we've made to keep it safe between his visits, and asked why I'd put the duck up on top of the farmhouse. I told him that ducks are birds and maybe it flew up there. He gave me A Look, and said, very patiently, as though explaining things to a slow learner, "Lego can't fly!"