Mama, the baby is stuck again!

“What NOW, Owen?”

I’m not proud of that lament but I’m driven to it by noon on a good day. Considering I’ve been up since 3 a.m., that makes it happy hour in some time zones for those without children. So imagine my surprise when I discovered my baby stuck in the cat door. It’s now a daily occurrence. 

“Mama!! Owen is stuck again!” 

You might ask why he does such a thing. Oh, well, because our son is obsessed with our cat and whenever she’s had enough of his attention she escapes through the cat door of the baby gate. She eludes him and he tries to follow her. This obsession is not hyperbole, he gets her name right and not mine. He still calls me “da’h” like a sassy East Londoner. He has trouble with the “m” sound so he refuses to use any word that starts with the “em” sound but he’ll say “Simone”.
He clicks and clucks his tongue to call her, motions by clapping one hand, and chucks his head to the side saying, “C’mon!” She, astonishingly enough, listens and comes when he calls. It amazes me still to watch them together. I was jealous of Simone, at one point, because she received more affection from him than myself.

Owen mimics the affection she gives and greets her by rubbing his head against her, licks her face, and hugs her. He wakes looking for all of us but especially Simone. Ducking under the table crying out with a meow or making kissing sounds to coax her. He jams himself into the cat door in protest of her rejection.

I sigh, pull him out, console him because he can’t fit through the cat door to follow her, mentally add the issue to his list of “quirks” for reference, and explain that “Simone needs to potty”. We hug and I rock him as his tears subside and I hide my smile. Nothing as comical as watching our pampered cat’s mudflap thighs slapping together as she oozes through the cat door to escape the amour of Owen. Maybe we should dress him as Pepé Le Pew next Halloween. I laugh to myself and he scowls at me. 

“Sorry, O.” He pouts and stomps away. I hear him mutter with his back to me, “P’ine.” (His version of “fine”.) Nora follows him and he dramatically fends off her embrace.

“NO want!”

It hurts her feelings and I then console her. I nudge her and whisper, 

“Hey, should we shake the treat bag and get Simone back up here?”

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