Playdate gone terribly wrong...

I learned an important motherhood lesson this weekend. When the neighbor kids come over to play...put the cat away.

On Sunday afternoon, the guy across the street asked if his little girls could come over and play with my kids. Their mother was working all day and I think he was kind of at a loss as to what to do with them. He has a daughter who is four months younger than my twins (3 years old) and another little girl who is 15 months old. We were having a grand time playing with Sophie's dollhouse and baking pretend cookies and hopping around on bouncy balls. The neighbor hung out with us because his oldest daughter did not want him to leave. I like him...he's a nice guy, so I didn't mind him hanging out. After playing for a while, he saw that his wife's car was parked in front of their house. He left the girls with us to go tell her where they were. Of course, the minute he leaves...all hell breaks loose.

His 15 month old, Hannah, was totally obsessed with our cat. We've had Molly the cat for about a month. She had just turned a year old when we adopted her from the Humane Society. I was a bit nervous about getting a cat with young kids, but she has proven to be the sweetest thing ever. She is incredibly tolerant of my kids' hugs and kisses and is really very gentle. Hannah, however, being 15 months old, is anything BUT gentle. She kept trying to pet the kitty. However, her version of petting including backing Molly into a corner, laughing a very loud maniacal laugh, and smacking Molly on the back. Molly was very polite for a while. She minded her manners for as long as she could. She tried to avoid Hannah. She tried to stay out of her way. I should have seen it coming....I should have read the frustration in my dear kitty's eyes. She took it as long as she could...then she snapped. As I was opening the door to let her mom in the house (mom had come over to say hi to the girls), we heard a piercing scream coming from our basement play room. I rushed to the steps just in time to see Ruanita carrying baby Hannah up the steps. She had two huge bloody scratches on her cheek. Molly had taken all she could handle and then snapped. It was clearly a case of self-defense. Poor Hannah was screeching while her mom was wiping away the blood. I apologized profusely. I was mortified. Luckily, her mom was incredibly laid-back about it, saying that her sister had done worse than that to her before. She kept telling me not to worry about it. Of course, that did nothing to ease my mortification. Hannah seemed to recover quickly and was back to playing in no time. However, I am afraid she is going to be sporting battle scars for a few days, at least.

I think Hannah and I both learned a lesson.