My four year old is obsessed with cats.
Obsessed in a way that mommy likes her lattes.
All she talks about are her “kitties” and cats and how we “need to buy one!”
Thankfully (ahem), the four year old’s daddy is very allergic to cats. Like super allergic. Like so allergic that if he doesn’t start putting the clothes IN the hamper as opposed to on the floor next to it, he’s getting locked in a Room O’ Cats.
Not that I would ever consider such a thing.
Also, don’t hate me, but I am not a cat person.
I don’t HATE cats per se, but I don’t like them or want them in my house or want them coming anywhere near my personal space bubble.
Also, you couldn’t pay me enough money to clean up after a cat (or a dog for that matter). Seriously, I have wiped little people for seven years – I have paid my dues, people.
So yes, I have a little four year old who is DESPERATE for a cat – so desperate that she’s willing to trade in her daddy for a cat.
I know this because we’ve had that convo – many times. This makes me laugh – ’cause it’s funny.
Every chance she gets to make a wish, it’s always about the cat – “I wish I gets a cat. I wish my Mommy buys me a kitty. I wish my Daddy be no allergic.”
Not happening, little one.
But I love my kid. A lot. And I want all her dreams to come true. As long as her dreams don’t involve cats. And pageants.
So for now, I buy her happiness.
I buy her happiness with stuffed cats, because stuffed cats I LOVE.