Overinvolved Mom > pets
The Younger has been getting really ticked off lately, because apparently everyone around him who’s older than two knows nothing. Which, if you’re two, is a fairly common scenario to find yourself in.
A frequent conversation about the cat goes something like this:
Younger: “It’s hungry! He meows! He meowing.”
Elder: “No, she’s a girl. Sidney is a girl cat.”
Younger (scoffing): “It’s NOT a girl. It’s a cat!!!”
At this point, he’s turning red and wagging a finger in our faces. He seems truly offended that we appear to be suggesting that the kittycat is … a child! Silly mommy. Silly brother. She’s obviously covered in fur, and likes to lick cream cheese off any given surface. And she’s not even wearing any pink. A girl? As if.
And now I’m racking my brain trying to come up with a language where gender and species is a nonissue. Perhaps we can adopt it in our pronoun-confused household. Especially since he charmingly refers to all female friends as “he.” And occasionally calls a neighbor’s golden retriever a cat.
At best, perhaps we can find a magical place where cats have no gender. Because really, unless you want to date our cat, does her sex really matter?
Obviously, I’m with The Younger on this one.
This was originally posted on my old mom blog, twoboysclub.com