Still as in ‘it’s been two years and the cats have done nothing untoward yet the kids still think they are going to lash out at any moment.’ Sadly, no story.
So, would you say your kids are…a little paranoid? 
My cat likes my gardening gloves, too. If I leave them on the ground, there will be a cat rolling all over it soon.
You’re married to my husband? What’s my cat doing in your bathroom? 
Have you ever asked them why they’re afraid? Maybe it’s done something while you were away?
My sweet girl pibble will take either my husband’s dirty sock or a pair of dirty underwear out of the laundry basket and hide it in her bed when he goes on trips. It’s sweet. If discovered, she looks ashamed and wiggles just the end of her tail and won’t look at me. I’ve never actually made any sort of big deal about it at all, so why she goes all ‘I’m in trouble’ on me, I have no idea.
One of my cats (all three are girls) will try to dig her way into my handbag if I have mint gum in there. If I leave it unzipped, she gets inside (!!) and rolls around in it purring like a weirdo.
Another of the girls gets the ‘my underpants are not a cat hammock’ lecture from my husband from time to time. She’s also the insanely curious about what goes on in the bathroom cat, and my husband accidentally peed on her head once. Hilarity ensued.
That same bathroom cat sleeps in the laundry sink. My washer drains into this sink. Nearly every time, she gets wet, dispite the fact that the washer makes noise when it’s on. I have to catch her and wash the detergent off.
Finally, the big sooky lala boy dog needs to chew on a ball. We have several around the house. This isn’t unusual, except he fixates on one of them per day and must have that one to the exclusion of all others, even if it’s rolled under the couch. Bonus points if we have identical (to us) balls in the house, because he will sniff at an offered substitute, and go on whinging and trying to stuff his 33kgs into the five centimetre gap between the couch and the floor until we go and fish the Chosen Ball out for him. Once he has fixated on his Ball of the Day, he cannot be dissuaded or distracted, he must have that one. The next day, it’ll be a different one. If it’s a tennis ball, he will not rest until he has skinned every inch of green fuzzy off of it. He’s…weird. 
Our special needs kitty Hank once did something similar with a plastic shopping bag. He was tossing it and pouncing it and having a grand old time…right up until he got himself threaded through one of the handles. Then he freaked out and tried to run away, only to find himself chased by some horrible, flapping, crackling monster. I thought he just had a foot or something caught and would run himself out of it, but after he hadn’t reappeared for a while I went to check on him.
I eventually found him huddled on top of a bookcase trembling. He had not only gotten it down around his waist like a hula skirt, he had somehow gotten it to pull tight enough he couldn’t work his own way back out. And every time we tried to work him loose he’d start panting and growling as soon as the bag rustled. We finally had to get a pair of scissors and cut the bag away from him.
I just posted this in the MMP also, but Mickey the fat little schnoodle just came in the room wearing one of my bras. The curious thing is how she got it down from where it was laying, about 4 ft off the ground, when she is terrible at jumping and climbing.
I presumed they had done something. Nope. Because the kids are <slightly> higher on the priority list.
Believe me, the kids would tell.
We were sitting around the table at a friends house once when the owner said, “What the hell is that cat doing?” We looked over to see the cat trying to walk with its head inside a shoe. The guy to whom the shoe belonged had BIG feet so the cat would lift it up, stumble a few inches, and then set it back down. And the cat wasn’t stuck because at one point it pulled its head out, looked around and then stuck its head back in again and continued the struggle.
Our cat Tiger absolutely adores my wife’s bathrobe, to the point that he sometimes stares angrily when she’s wearing it. Like, “Why are you wearing my sleeping cushion? Put that down at once!” It’s actually handy for cat control–eg. last night, when he was sprawled across our bed at bedtime, dozing. (How the hell does a housecat take up virtually all of a king-size bed?) I said I’d move him, but the missus said she’d handle it: took off her robe & folded it neatly at the foot of the bed, and almost before she’d finished, el Tigre had curled up on it and was asleep again.
I’ve been noticing my socks getting strewn about recently and had no idea who the guilty party was until a couple weeks ago. I wear scrubs at work and had a really slow shift and my black scrub pants were pretty clean so I figured I could get a second wear out of them so I hung them on the door of an armoire. Later that night I saw the pants go flying across the room and saw a certain whitish cat dragging them behind him. So, into the laundry for those pants.
Leroy Jethro Tull has developed a additction to chewing gum. JL put his hand in his jacket pocket to discover the cat had chewed up an entire package without leaving a shred of paper on the floor - it was all still in the pocket! If he chews gum around the cat, Jethro will try to get into his mouth to get it.
Weird. Of all the cats I’ve been owned by, this is the first one to crave gum.