What are they thinking?

Admittedly, I'm an indoor cat. Always have been. Born in the shelter. Put in a carrier, to the car, to the house. Three brief trips out on the leash (playing with the leash seemed more fun than figuring out where the wind was coming from ... and one time they let me play in snow, yes, cold white snow!). So I speak as an indoor only cat when I say this, and maybe that's why I ask: What are they thinking? The other day, Maggie stepped out onto the back porch when Dad went to water some plants. Usually she is good and waits right at the door as Dad opens, then promptly closes, the sliding screen door. But the other day she decided to step on out. Twice! And then last night she got her head out before Dad almost closed it in the door. To top things, Huggy Bear got half his body out the front door when a friend was leaving yesterday afternoon. You'd think after his few outdoor outings -- a quick sprint as a kitten where Dad caught him by the tail and he turned back in, and two brief visits to the back porch -- that he'd get the idea that inside is better than outside. We have air conditioning, couches, ice cubes, toys, food, water, brushes, beds, food for crying out loud, creature comforts! What could they want outside? Haven't they seen Midnight's injuries, the scruffy tuxedo cat, the hungry kitten, the mean-looking cat with the big hoo-haas, and the skinny version of me Mom and Dad call Bizzaro Jasper? Huggy and Maggie have got to stop worrying Mom and Dad with this foolishness. I guess I'll just never understand...