In which The Cat has a dastardly plan

I plump myself down on Small Sprogs bed. He looks at me with a withering look. I smile!
"Whats up dude?" he says.
I giggle "Just checking you're still breathing" I retort.

I try to engage him in conversation and for a moment he takes off half an earphone to listen and puts whoever's on Skype, on silent.

I can still tell Small Sprog is in there, it's just hard to find him sometimes due to the huge amount of hair and the teenage propensity towards grunting unless you are a friend - and I am blatantly his mother. However we do manage very good conversations about music sometimes, as we have similar tastes but that's usually in the car.

I realise, after a minute or so, that my time is almost up...and then The Cat runs in. Now The Cat is all knowing, and he knows full well he's not allowed in this room as Small Sprog has a tendency toward wheezing when fur is involved. "Out!" we both shout, simultaneously pointing to the door, but cat's just don't get pointing. He looks at our held out arms in bewilderment (fake obviously as he is all knowing) and refuses to budge. I take a step towards him and he jumps into a box. Great! He's done this before and the only thing to do is carry the box out with The Cat in it. This is what I do, carefully placing it and it's contence on the landing. And then I realise both The Cat and I are now outside of Small Sprog's room -perfect - just how Small Sprog likes it!

Seconds later Big Al is on the landing shouting expletives in a very Scottish way - probably because he is Scottish. Turns out the box on the landing wasn't there a few moments ago when he walked the other way, who put it there and why has he fallen over it?  The Cat's work is done - Game, set and match!