Anyone who's been to my home can attest that we yell, "Bad Diddy!" around here quite a bit.
To clarify, the "diddy" comes from our two-year-old nephew, Brayton.
The first time he came to visit after starting to speak English, I was trying to convince him to try to steer clear of Amos.
When he and his older sister, Bergen, asked why, I had to come clean.
"Because he's a bad kitty."
"Bad Diddy?" was Brayton's one-finger-in-the-mouth, head-cocked, blue-eyes-locked-with-mine reply.
"Yeah, buddy. He's a pretty Bad Diddy."
"Bad Diddy!" he yelled, turning to Amos and pointing an accusatory finger at him.
And Amos has been the Bad Diddy ever since.
With antics including eating whatever he wants, whenever he wants, to general terrorization with screwdrivers, calculators and knives, lying on the dining room table and licking batteries, Amos does his best to make me crazy.
So it was a relief to see some well-behaved (albeit 400lbs of well-behaved) cats when we trekked to the Minnesota Zoo.
Ladies and gentlemen?
Meet an Amur tiger.
The exhibit left the kids saying, "Wow!" over and over.
The last shot made me wonder if tigers have bad breath.
The only thing Lee could say?
"I wanna play with those Diddies."
Because one ten-pound Bad Diddy just isn't enough.