The Love of His Life
Many years from now, Henry will, after not allowing him to stay out after midnight when all his friends can, tell me that he hates me. I’ll be firm, explain to him that midnight is his curfew, and, after he storms out of the house, cry a little because he broke my heart.
Now I’m sure he won’t really mean it, that the next day it’ll be like nothing happened, but for those few hours, I’ll be devastated.
Why am I mentioning this now, when this won’t be happening for another 15 or so years? Well, in preparation for an upcoming event, I’ve been preparing myself for small heartaches. Like when he says “Hi, Mom!” on national television after hitting the winning home run for the New York Yankees even though it was me who spent hours playing catch with him. Or like when he’s eventually not going to want to hold my hand when taking a walk.
The upcoming event, however, may be the worst. You see, in a couple of months, Henry’s going to start walking. And while this scares Kristen and I a bit, it will also be an incredible event. But I know — I really know — that his first steps are not going to be in my direction. He won’t lumber like Frankenstein’s monster toward me, his arms outstretched. No, his first steps are going to be toward Cecil, our cat.
Henry loves… no, he adores Cecil. Whenever I’m carrying him down the hall and CeCe’s underfoot, there are plenty of squeals and leg and arm flapping. And changing Henry’s mood from sad to happy only involves us plopping him down in front of the cat, and there are giggles and squirms and a whole lotta grabbing.
You see, it’s obvious that in the love hierarchy in the house, I’m at the bottom. Georgia, our less gregarious cat, is above me, then Kristen. Just above Kristen (and way far ahead of me) is Cecil.
I suspect a few reasons why he’s so loved. First, they’re about the same size. Kristen and I are giants compared to Henry, so to see this creature running around that weighs about the same and is usually at eye level is a plus. Second, he’s quite soft. The hair that grows out of my face is rough and unpleasant (just ask Kristen), but Cecil’s is downy plush. And third, Cecil will try his darnedest to completely ignore Henry at all costs, even… no, ESPECIALLY when they’re about 6 inches away from each other.
Henry will be laughing up a storm, trying frantically to reach for the cat, and Cecil will just be sitting there, looking in the other direction, as if to say, “Where is that strange noise coming from and why can’t the big people make it stop?” It’s like in high school, when I was madly in love with this girl (who will be unnamed for her benefit) but because I was nice to her and kind and didn’t completely ignore her, I was left on the curb. While the smug, overly strong and handsome guy that wouldn’t give her the time of day was the object of her infatuation.
But I digress.
The other day, Henry’s grandfather sent him a package of clothes, and in said package were some crumpled up pieces of tissue paper. Tissue paper + cat = hilarity.
(I have to apologize for the video quality. Our normal lighting director Sergio was off that day and we were using an inferior replacement. Namely, me.)
May 26th, 2009 at 9:50 am
Raphe may be experiencing some doubts about where he lies on Henry’s spectrum of preferred companions, but I do not…I’m certain we both rank above the felines.
May 26th, 2009 at 11:14 pm
“There are many intelligent species in the universe. They are all owned by cats”
Great video
May 27th, 2009 at 2:58 pm
Adorable video! If it’s any consolation, my nephew is the same way with their dog. His first (and, for a long time, his only) word was “doggy.” His next word was the dog’s name, “Pepper.” Took him a long time to say either “daddy” or “mommy.” The animals always win.