Corralling Cats

As Abby turns four and Esther turns two, I’m discovering they are becoming more and more difficult to reign in. It’s a little like corralling cats, as my dad says. In open places, I find myself constantly calling out, “Come on, Abby; come here, Esther” with little to no return on my energy investment. They don’t help each other out with this issue either. One eggs the other on, diverting the other’s attention to some new area of interest.

At one time I used to call out to them in a public square and see them respond to my voice rather quickly. Abby was a bit of a challenge with this, but I always had Esther’s willingness to cooperate. Not anymore. It’s this way at home, unfortunately, too. When do they begin to ignore your wishes? Pretty early on, I can tell you. They are too busy with their own plans and with feeding each other’s curiosity; you are of little to no consequence in their campaign. There is a feeling of utter uselessness at times with this phenomenon; you find yourself frequently questioning your involvement in the picture.

I also find that they are moving faster with age as well. This presents not only corralling difficulties but its own set of new concerns. And faster alone is one challenge, but faster together presents an infinite number of obstacles. I’m discovering faster creates one of the most complex hurdles of parenthood – having to make split-second decisions. With one child, having to make these split-second decisions, again, is quite a chore, but with two, the possibilities of self-destruction are almost endless. “No, don’t climb up on the chair, Esther; you could fall over and get hurt.” “Abby, don’t walk on the picnic table, honey! Tables are for eating on, not walking on.” “Don’t put the bag over your head; that’s dangerous. We’re putting toys in the bag, not putting it over our head.” And then negotiating the operations of the two of them causing possible bodily harm to one another – “No, Abby, do not feed your sister pistachios; she doesn’t know how to remove the shell, and she could easily choke on them.” “Esther, don’t hit your sister over the head with the broken tree branch!” “Don’t throw sand at one another; you’re going to get it into someone’s eyes.” “Abby, give me the scissors.” Yes, these are actual split-second decisions I’ve made lately, and the list goes on and on.

And though these cats are hard to corral, they are precious, indeed. They are precocious and delightful, but they do make me want to Google the best way to train felines.