The truth hurts

Got to my casa familia last night after many cramped hours in the plane and limping around airports (why does New Orleans smell like grease throughout every terminal? yuck). Everything's nicely decorated for the holidays and all cleaned up. I'm looking around, admiring the work my mom did, when my gaze stops. Something's different on the mantel.

The pictures of us kids have been taken down. In their stead is a shot of my mom's favorite cat. This guy has recently decided that he's a lap cat and will do tricks on command. Fucking brown-noser.

I pointed to the mantel and accused my mom of having a new favorite child. She hugged me, and said a bit guiltily, "But he's so cute!" Well, can't argue with that.