Dear Kid,

Have. You. Heard. The. News.

Big news.

Colossal news.

News to make the fur stand up on the back of your neck. At the Westminster Kennel Club Dog Show.

Westminster? The show is in New York. Westminster is not. Actually, it turns out that the WKC is not named after the Westminster in England. It was named after a hotel in Manhattan where (and I quote) “sporting gentlemen used to meet in the bar to drink and lie about their shooting accomplishments. Eventually they formed a club and bought a training area and kennel. They kept their dogs there and hired a trainer.”

The WKC Dog Show has been around for a long time (and by “long time” I mean has been in all four Madison Square Gardens. Madisons Square Garden? Madison Squared Garden?).

There are always new things in shows like this. New sponsors, new rules, new hosts, new judges. This year, “new” is going a step further. Not only are there new breed being shown (including Ewok), but for the first time the show includes cats.

As in Meow.

As in the big Dog Show (the one with “Dog Show” in its name) is including cats.

Don’t get me wrong—I like cats. I love that they know they’re smarter than everyone around them. And I am not a member of the WKC, so I have no emotional attachment to their traditions.

But I’m having a little trouble reconciling cats at a dog show. I always thought cats were more evolved than that, more into ruling by power than by beauty pageant pomp and ceremony.

Maybe I just need to get with the times. To recognize that how an animal self-identifies is more important than the species he or she was born with.

To be fair, the cats are not going compete or parade around the ring. They are going to be on display in their booths. Where they can be cats.

At the Dog Show.

2017 is shaping up to be a weird year.

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

Puppy: What are you doing?
Me: Writing a “get well” card.
Puppy: Who’s building a well?
Me: In this case, it means I hope the person feels better.
Puppy: Does someone not feel well?
Me: Yes.
Puppy: So you’re telling him to get better?
Me: Sort of.
Puppy: Because you’re a Mommy and we have to do what Mommy says.
Me: Well, I’m not HIS mommy.
Puppy: Did you tell him to take naps and drink lots of water?
Me: No, I didn’t.
Puppy: Did you tell him to eat chicken soup?
Me: Um, no.
Puppy: Did you check to see if he has a wet nose?
Me: I definitely did not do that.
Puppy: Doesn’t sound like you’re doing a very good job of telling him to get better.
Me: Sometimes we just have to send love and hope that someone gets better.
Puppy: But that can’t be right. We have to do something!
Me: What would you suggest?
Puppy: He probably needs his tummy scratched.
Me: I think I’m going to stick with sending a card.
Puppy: You need to practice helping people feel better.
Me: Can you say, “We hope you feel better soon”?
Puppy: Woof!
Me: Now it’s “woof”? You are a very strange beast.
Puppy: “Woof” might make him feel better. Especially if you won’t scratch his tummy.

Love, Mom

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Dear Kid,

Having one of those “Well, duh” moments.

There’s a video making the rounds on the ‘net (you can watch it here if you really want to) that proves that dogs have selective hearing.

Well, duh.

We (and by “we” I mean all cat parents, most dog parents, and many children parents—possibly hippo parents and giraffe parents too but I can’t be sure) see this EVERY STINKIN’ DAY.

Parent: Come here
Cat blinks.

Parent: Come here
Dog continues sniffing.

Parent: Come here
Child continues building Leggos.

Parent (whispering): …treat…
Everyone races to be the first (or second) to get the treat. Except the cat who saunters nonchalantly over but has plans to kill anyone who takes the cat treat.

This is not new news.

Parent says: Clean up your room, wash your face, then we’ll go shopping for school supplies.
Child hears: Let me grab my purse, a snack for you, and the car keys and we’ll go buy Star Wars Leggos.

Again. Nothing new.

Sometimes we hear the greatest new things on the internet.

Sometimes everything old is new again (extra points if you get the reference).

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

One of the most important things about being a mom is being able to master The Mom Look.

The Look can convey a wide variety of instructions, emotions, judgments, and answers—and kids always know what The Look means. At least they do if they know what’s good for them.

The great thing about The Mom Look is that it goes right to the heart of the matter. There’s no ignoring a Mom Look. You can try, but The Mom Look will penetrate your defenses. The Mom Look can bore through the back of your head. Through walls.

The Mom Look can also cover distance. Not just distance to the next room, but vast distances. Specifically, from wherever Mom is to wherever you are.

So if you think someone is looking in your general direction, you might be right.

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

We seem to be having a small problem.

Someone (or something) seems to be causing a disturbance in the Force. Maybe a better way to say it is that a force is causing a disturbance.

The Puppy has been farting a little.

And since it is a very long way from his teeny, tiny brain (which is generally asleep) to his posterior (which is generally only pretending to sleep), he is quite affronted, startled, and offended every time his hindquarters sneak up and wake him.

To add insult to injury, once he jerks awake, he can never seem to find the culprit. The source of the noise vanishes quite as quickly as it, um, appeared.

A tutor who tooted the flute
Tried to teach two young tooters to toot;
Said the two to the tutor,
“Is it harder to toot, or
To tutor two tooters to toot?”

Let me paint the picture. There he is, curled up asleep on his pillow. Sometimes even snoring gently. The whole world is calm and peaceful. Then

<toot>

Instantly awake, The Puppy leaps about 7 feet into the air, whirling around to see who snuck up behind him. Unable to identify the perpetrator, he trots over to where I’m sitting on the couch pretending that he’s been far away from his pillow the entire night.

Meanwhile, Pi is laughing so hard she can’t breathe which offends The Puppy even further so he decides to go sleep in the dining room where there might not be any felonious activity.

I’ve tried to explain normal bodily functions to him, but he doesn’t believe me.

Love, Mom