The next morning, Cathy woke to the sounds of little squeaks. The kittens were crying for breakfast. She grabbed her robe and headed downstairs but, by the time she got there, Gran had already brought them into the kitchen and fed them.
“Good morning, Catherine. I fell asleep on the couch last night. I guess I’m too old for kittens.”
Cathy smiled. “You exhausted them, too. Why don’t I make breakfast, and we can eat while they do?”
“That sounds good, but the way they’re gobbling down their chow, they’ll be finished before you even scramble an egg.”
Cathy laughed. The kittens were eating fast from the same bowl. “I wasn’t thinking eggs, anyway, Gran. Would a nice bowl of cereal be okay?”
“I don’t mind, dear, but eggs are more nutritious. There’s so much sugar in cereal. I can whip up so
