Mr. Kitty Face is not the smartest cat.

There, I said it.

The thing is, it doesn't really bother me. Not in any sort of ongoing way - I mean, every so often it's an issue, but in general, I figure he gets the job done just fine. And that thought process got me to wondering, is this what it's like to raise a child?

I imagine at first, there's not much judgement you can make. You can't really feel good or bad about your baby's intelligence, strength, looks, hand-holding ability - the baby is a baby, a little bundle of potential, but it isn't really /good/ at anything. Not yet, anyway.

But as they get older - what sort of emotions come with that? How does one /not/ feel attached to the outcome? How could you /not/ take it personally if your kid was stupid, or mean, or ugly, or constitutionally incapable of holding hands? Those things must weigh quite heavily.

Right now it's dark in the room. Mr. Kitty Face is sitting, alert, on the floor. He's staring at the couch. There's no one on the couch, he's just staring. So sure, I'm like, "damn why is the cat just staring at stuff, he's sort of dumb isn't he" - but the fact is, I don't have much control over it. He's a cat, and sometimes they just stare, and so what if in addition to doing normal cat stuff he's maybe missing a few tools from the shed. So what if he's one or two beers short of a six pack. There's nothing I can do about him being one damned D-cell battery away from a working Simon game (note: daaamn those looked different when i was a kid). I just have to enjoy him for what he is; treasure his incongruities and appreciate the stuff he /is/ good at. I'm not gonna trade him in for a smarter cat (not yet, at any rate....depends on if he gets stupider with age). So I just roll with his slight stupidity, and we'll see where it takes us.

Also, Mr. Kitty Face has a kitty face. Very endearing.