As we all know, Nathan loves to read his books. The poor kid will go through great lengths to sneak behind the rocking chair in his room to he can get into his stash of books on the bookcase. Then he will sit quietly and “read” each of his books multiple times. He doesn’t touch anything else on the shelves. Just his books.

So sometimes I’ll let Nathan play with his books when I can supervise him. (If I let him play with them unsupervised, he totally mauls them into lumps of chewed up, spineless shreds of cardboard, mere remnants of their former glorious selves.) 

Notice Turbo on the other side of the gate. On any given day, whenever I have Nathan in his room, you can count on Turbo sitting patiently in that spot, diligently trying to look as disinterested and unconcerned as feline-ly possible. But that cat, for some crazy ass reason, loves Nathan. And he sits there, biding his time until the fur-yanking and tail-pulling can commence. YOU NEVER LEARN, DO YOU, TURBO? You never learn.

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