November 11, 2012
From an early age Jude has reverted to his "natural state" whenever he feels upset or stressed out, which is a completely understandable, normal coping mechanism except his natural state falls in at a 6.1 on the illustrious and relatively unknown pretending-to-be-a-kitty-cat scale.
(He's a cat, he's a cat, he's a cat cat cat.)
He used to drop to all-fours and start rubbing on the nearest leg any time he felt nervous but these days it's improved to only when he gets caught breaking house-rules, except since he's three that's still pretty much all the time with the meowing – for the last time, no you can't get out of trouble by turning into a cat. It's the kind of thing that is really fucking cute at first but gets older than a big sack of balls the 10,000th time around the grocery store parking lot while the cart guy is giving you the stink face.
–Just kidding! I'm lying through my teeth. It's still hilariously adorable. I'm just not allowed to laugh because he's "IN TROUBLE" cue covering face with hand and looking away, don't make eye contact with it, don't laugh, keep walking.
Tonight at as we pulled in to the parking lot at the store he piped up from the back seat, "MOM, I'm not a kitty anymore."
And I heard screeeeeeeeeeccch– the world stop spinning. Not a kitty? NOT A KITTY? You're NOT A KITTY? ARE YOU NOT A HUMAN CAT-CHILD? DID YOU NOT SPRING FROM MY WOMB? ARE YOU NOT MY SON?
I sucked in a breath and looked back over my shoulder before he continued on, "...I'm a big Simba lion."
Some things never change*.
*As long as they change like, before high school or college. Or at least before he joins the workforce and drops to his hands and knees one day midway through the big board meeting and, "MEOW. MEOW. I A KITTY STATISTICAL CAMPAIGN EFFECTIVENESS FLOWCHART. MEOW." Don't be that guy**.
**Someone else please be that guy. There's a hole in my soul that I fill with YouTube videos, and that would fill in fine.
I don't like the cats (but the cats like me)
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