I only have one, so he gets to be my favorite.
I have two cats. They seem to think they're
I made a short list.
Time to wake up
What I should see
Nothing! Blissfully blank, quiet nothing. Empty space and boring ceiling. Also, it should be 7 a.m., at the earliest. Of course, this rarely happens.
What I see (son gets there first)
This is when I remember to close the door, and haven't had to open it in the middle of the night for litter-box access. Still, it's 6:30 a.m., at the latest.
What I see (a cat gets there first)
Also, it's between 3 a.m. and 5:30.
Winner: Son. More sleep for me, and the correct end aimed at me in the morning. Definitely son.
No one likes this one, but you might as well accept it's going to come up all the time. Cats and kids share a minimal ability (or inclination) to act in a way that is both reasonable and indicates they have an awareness of the consequences of their actions. I, unfortunately, have to remind them. This is never popular, but the difficulty varies depending on who I'm disciplining.
Left to their own devices, my cats' favorite pastimes would consist of (1) howling obnoxiously; (2) urinating on, chewing, shredding, or otherwise demolishing my belongings; (3) sleeping; and (4) eating crickets. I don't mind the last two, but the first two activities are somewhat unacceptable. Action must be taken.
And that's it! Locking the offending party next to the toilet and ignoring his pitiful cries for several minutes is perfectly acceptable, as long as the offending part is not human. So is aggressively spraying the offending party with a water bottle. Unfortunately, bathroom imprisonment and water torture are frowned upon when a human child is involved. I had to find another way.
I'll use a recent example. It doesn't have to be a big transgression that starts it. It basically always goes like this.
Unfortunately, this way seems to involve lots and lots and lots and LOTS of discussion. You know how I love discussion, but this reaches epic levels of ridiculousness. Words tumble from him, with no rhyme or reason as to their arrangement. He doesn't care about resolution. He doesn't even care about winning. At this point his goal is simply to wear me out, by way of breaking things down on fifty meta-levels of annoying so that by the end I get drawn in to his nonsensical game and end up shouting something barely even tangentially related. Any hope of conflict resolution is a dim memory.
Winner: Cats. And will someone bring me some Excedrin?
I am a sucker for affection. I'm lucky, because I have both the most affectionate cats I've ever seen and a son who still, at nine, loves to lavish hugs and kisses (even in front of his friends!) on me without request. But there is definitely a more preferable experience between the two.
I know it looks similar, but one is way better and one is way worse. It's all in the moments leading up to the kiss:
Winner: Do I even need to say it?
Every once in a while, it's nice to remember I'm married. To a spouse. And we like to do spouse-y things together, like get into bed together and ... talk. Or something.
There is often an interruption.
***HEAVY THUD ON BED***
Winner: Kid. I'd also like to thank Harry Potter, Pixar, Disney, and Netflix.
So that's it! Kid wins overall. If only he wasn't so high maintenance, it would be perfect. Wait, I know! What's super-fun, not high maintenance, and has the bonus feature of freaking out my husband? Praying mantises! I just hatched an egg case full of them, now living in containers all over my office. Wonder how they stack up?
I guess the whole cannibalism thing kind of makes it a wash. Oh well. My kid wins. I think I can handle that.
And you totally wouldn't report me to CPS if I used the bathroom thing from now on anyway, right? Right?