I'm torn between the two myself. It's not so much that my daughter, my preshus daughter, is drinking half and half from a bowl on the floor next to the cat, which, you know is kind of cute.
It's that my cat is a jerk and I'm still fighting his fleas and yet I still give him treats as if that's somehow going to sweeten his odious personality or make him act a better pet somehow. It's that I'm treating him like the pet I wish I had. It's that the floor is only kind of clean. It's that Josephine is much nicer these days when she's acting like a kitty cat, so when she's being whiny and tantrumy, I start calling her kitty and ask her if she wants her whiskers stroked, and that sometimes shifts her out of insane freak child mode and I am so grateful I actually shudder. It's that on Saturday, when I was heading out for a lovely grown-up afternoon with Nadine, we'd made it as far as the DVP before she reminded me I still had my kitty-cat ears headband on. It's that I have my own kitty-cat ears headband, and it doesn't reside mainly in the "tickle trunk", which itself has grown rather dusty in the bedroom wardrobe. It's that, what you can't and will not ever see in an image here, Josephine is not wearing any pants right now. It's that while I embrace my motherhood whole-heartedly, every once in a while, I'm forced to stop and look at something like this, and my mind shrieks "When did I become a person who thinks it's okay for my bare-bottomed child to drink cream from a bowl on a crumby floor next to an asshole cat who gave us fleas?!!!!!!"
