I swear I just went in the next room to fold the clothes.
My daughter, Amelie, had finally — finally — fallen asleep in her rocking chair. The bottle was still warm, her little sock half off (because, of course), and she was as calm as ever, her breathing soft and steady. It had taken what felt like forever, but she had finally drifted off after hours of fussing, and I had a rare moment of peace.
The kittens, as usual, were supposed to be curled up in their little blanket fort on the other side of the room. Their little sanctuary had been set up with care, a safe haven filled with pillows and warmth, and I had every intention of leaving them to nap while I tackled the never-ending laundry pile.
But when I came back, I was paralyzed.
Not because something was wrong, but because what I saw looked like something out of a fairy tale or a secret kitten worship ceremony.
Three tabby kittens had climbed up on the rocking chair with her. One was hanging over her shoulder like a scarf, its little paws resting gently against her neck. Another was sleeping upside down on her chest, its belly exposed, as though it had claimed her as its personal bed. And the third… well, the third was perched on top of her head, looking like a tiny crown of fur.
Amelie, completely unaware of the chaos she had caused, slept soundly through it all, her soft little face glowing with the peacefulness of slumber. The kittens, on the other hand, looked entirely content, as though they had crowned her their queen. I stood frozen, staring at the scene before me, utterly amazed at how naturally they had taken to her.
I gently tiptoed closer, afraid to disturb their kingdom, and watched them. The one on her shoulder blinked up at me with its sleepy eyes, as if giving me an approving nod. The kitten on her chest let out a soft, contented purr, clearly aware of the royal status it had bestowed upon her.
And then, in the most surreal moment of all, the kitten on her head shifted slightly, adjusting its position like it was settling in for the long haul. I couldn’t help but smile. I had never seen anything like this before. They had claimed her, and she, in turn, was their queen.
I took a deep breath, not wanting to disrupt the magic of the moment, and backed out of the room slowly. The kittens had chosen their queen, and in that moment, I couldn’t help but feel that I had witnessed something truly special. In the most unexpected of ways, my daughter had become a part of their world — and I wasn’t sure if I’d ever look at her (or the kittens) the same way again.
From that day on, whenever Amelie sat in her rocking chair, I’d hear the soft pitter-patter of little paws following her around. The kittens never strayed far from their queen, and neither did I.
Our little house had become a royal kingdom, and I, it seemed, had unwittingly become the court jester.