My friend, Kailani, shared the sweetest post this morning about the tender and simple shows of affection with our kids. It struck a chord with me. Not only because I’ve been there with my own daughter, but also because my son is still in the acceptance stage of this show of affection.

As my daughter is growing I’m learning that although she is becoming resistant to any show of emotion/affection in public or in front of her peers she still craves it. She still asks me to tuck her in at night and she absolutely beams when I call her my princess, baby or anything else complimentary. In fact, just last week I tucked her in giving her a kiss and telling her that she will always be my beautiful princess. She said, “Mom, can tell me that again tomorrow night? Oh, but mom, don’t tell anyone that you do that.” I smiled and gave her a big kiss, wished her sweet dreams and retreated from the room. They grow so fast. In a few more years I’ll have a cat:

Children as Pets - The Cat Years

I just realized that while children are dogs - loyal and affectionate - teenagers are cats. It’s so easy to be a dog owner. You feed it, train it, boss it around. It puts it’s head on your knee and gazes at you as if you were a Rembrandt painting. It bounds indoors with enthusiasm when you call it.

Then around age 13, your adoring little puppy turns into a big old cat. When you tell it to come inside, it looks amazed, as if wondering who died and made you emperor. Instead of dogging your doorsteps, it disappears. You won’t see it again until it gets hungry — then it pauses on its sprint through the kitchen long enough to turn its nose up at whatever you’re serving. When you reach out to ruffle its head, in that old affectionate gesture, it twists away from you, then gives you a blank stare, as if trying to remember where it has seen you before.

You, not realizing that the dog is now a cat, think something must be desperately wrong with it. It seems so antisocial, so distant, sort of depressed. It won’t go on family outings. Since you’re the one who raised it, taught it to fetch and stay and sit on command, you assume that you did something wrong. Flooded with guilt and fear, you redouble your efforts to make your pet behave.

Only now you’re dealing with a cat, so everything that worked before now produces the opposite of the desired result. Call it, and it runs away. Tell it to sit, and it jumps on the counter. The more you go toward it, wringing your hands, the more it moves away. Instead of continuing to act like a dog owner, you can learn to behave like a cat owner. Put a dish of food near the door, and let it come to you. But remember that a cat needs your help and your affection too. Sit still, and it will come, seeking that warm, comforting lap it has not entirely forgotten. Be there to open the door for it.

One day your grown-up child will walk into the kitchen, give you a big kiss and say, “You’ve been on your feet all day. Let me get those dishes for you.” Then you’ll realize your cat is a dog again.

- author unknown

From the day this cute writing was shared with me it etched itself into my memory. I’ve referred to teens as cats ever since. *wink* Here’s hoping I have a few more kitten years with my baby girl and enough wisdom to truly relish the dog years with my boy.

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