Monday, March 4, 2013

The Kitty Has Left the River

Tonight's cocktail isn't something I'm drinking, but something I would very much like to try, because it looks like cocktail porn.

Photo credit: Barton G., The Restaurant
If you just happen to have some liquid nitrogen on hand, you, too, could make a "Sin-Sation," which is a signature drink at Barton G., The Restaurant, in Miami, where I wish I was right now, because it's not snowing there. Here's the description: "Nitrogenized Vanilla Vodka and Rose Petal Nectar Topped with Champagne, Served with a Vanilla Vodka and Rose Petal Nectar Pop." Granted, at $32 per drink, it's not like you'd be swilling them down all night, but I'm totally fascinated by the concept.

I've written before about how nice it is that my kids are growing up and becoming more self sufficient. Just for right now, I take it all back. I want my babies back, just for a few hours. What's bringing this on? Tink has put an end to our "Kitty in the River" game.

Let me 'splain. When Tink was about 3, not long after I moved out of her dad's house, she started a game of getting out of the bathtub that she only played with me. She was the "kitty in the river," and I was the clueless but well-meaning human who just happened to be taking a walk by the river and, upon discovering this abandoned, damp kitty, wrapped it up in a towel and took it home to live with me and my children. There were many variations on this theme, but it was how Tink got out of the bathtub every night at my house for approximately 3 years, 11 months, and 24 days. Until last night.

Me: "OK, sweetheart, I'm looking for the kitty in the river!"

Tink: "Mommy, I don't WANT to be the kitty in the river anymore! It's a little kid thing! It makes me feel bad!" Aaaand, cue the pouting.

To my credit, I managed not to cry. I had no idea it mattered so much to me. Of course, I knew eventually she would outgrow it, but I thought I'd have warning, or that she'd give me one last kitty in the river before telling me she was done with it. Nope. It's over.

Of course, I want my kids to grow up to be independent, courageous adults who know their own minds, even if it costs me a little heartbreak every time they cast aside a piece of their baby selves. Now my only remaining baby is my actual cat, who mainly just wants to lie around on my boobs all the time, rather like Tink and Tweak when they were newborns. And of course, he refuses to get in a river for me, so I guess it's really over. Sniffle.

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