2013 will forever be known as The Year of the Dog. The Chinese Calendar might tell you it's the year of the snake, but at our house, we now go by the Canine Calendar.
On January 11, 2013, our family grew by one. We became the quintessential suburban family: one boy, one girl, one dog. We have everything but the minivan. [The neighbor across the street has one, and the neighbor next door has one, so I feel that we've covered that disease by association.]
I didn't grow up with dogs. I was raised among cats and find them quite familiar. Needy, disguised in a cloak of indifference. My daughter likes to play a little game where she and my mom ask each other questions, "Would you rather be X or Y?" When she asked me if I would rather be a cat or a dog, I said cat. When she asked me if I would rather be a skunk or a squirrel, I said skunk. The common denominator? Independence. Nobody really bothers you when you're a skunk or a cat.
Instead of sticking with experience, we adopted the perpetual toddler. He'll always be happy to see us. He'll always want more. He'll only listen sometimes. He'll never go to Kindergarten or learn to use the potty. [Internet videos aside...let's face it, that's just weird.] He'll always love me and he'll never move away or complain about me to his friends. Come to think of it, this sounds like everything I have always wanted in a child...