Her Favorite Friend

Do you remember your favorite friend from your childhood? I don't mean a real friend, I mean an imaginary friend. A toy even. I remember having a baby doll that I prayed for when I said my prayers. I remember that I gave her baths, which caused her eyes to stop opening and closing correctly. I feel like I should issue a public apology to my parents for any and all incidents involving said baby doll. Maybe she didn't drive them crazy. But I'm a Mommy now, and I would be willing to bet that she did.

Lorelai has a favorite friend. It started out innocent enough. She got a cute little kitten for Christmas from Aunt Jan. Nothing fancy. Just a little white cat that fits in the palm of my hand. Simple enough. And she's gotten so many little toys like that. The child has a ridiculous amount of little toys! But there must have been something about this cat, because now they are inseparable. I'm not kidding...Catty (name courtesy of the creative mind of a 2 year old) is the first thing Lo talks about when she wakes up, and the last things she asks about when she goes to sleep. Catty is everywhere. And I hate Catty.

I know, I know. I'm a terrible mother. Just tonight, while Jeremy and I were in the kitchen getting burgers ready for tomorrow, I heard Lorelai having a conversation with Catty. I shook my head and said, "I will not be sad when we lose Catty." He told me how terrible I was, and I know this to be true. But I. Hate. Catty. Yes, Lorelai loves her, and she will probably be devastated when/if anything ever happens to her. And yes, I should be sad when/if that day comes. And while it will certainly hurt my heart to see my sweet Lo upset over Catty, I will not miss her. I will probably do a little happy dance behind closed doors.

It's silly, really. She's just a little cat. She doesn't make noise or move, at least not on her own. She doesn't require batteries or maintenance. She doesn't take up a lot of room. But my sweet chatter box of a child is CONSTANTLY talking to/about Catty. She's constantly throwing her or catching her or hugging her or yelling at her. "Where Catty, Mommy?" "Catty gone get you!" "Watch Catty, Mommy!" "Look at Catty! She right they-ah!" "I want Catty, Mommy!" "Here comes her, Mommy!" 

I love Lorelai. I love her imagination. I love her spunk and her humor. I love her intensity. I love every single thing about her. 

But I. Hate. Catty