Meow

I'm not really sure when it began, but some time ago Owen began pretending he was a cat. We've gotten used to it and have long since chalked it up to the general weirdness of toddlers, but the situation hit home the other night when I found myself at a work party, meowing into a cellphone to console our upset cat, while the head of our company's publishing group was giving a rah-rah speech.

Now, as far as we can tell Owen is aware that he is in fact not a cat. He just likes to pretend is all. But sometimes it's a bit creepy, like the time when he tripped and bumped his hand on the floor and moments later I saw him quietly licking his hand.

Me: Are you licking your paw?
Owen: Meow meow.

Sadly, we are now fairly fluent in cat. Owen has meows that mean assent, and those those indicate otherwise. Some indicate anger, others show gratitude. I have had conversations similar to this many times:

Me: Here's your glass of milk, buddy.
Owen: Meow.
Me: Owen, what to you say when someone gives you something?
Owen: Meow.
Me: You know that's not it. What do you say?
Owen (forcefully):Meow.
Me: I'm going to take the milk back if you don't say thank you.
Owen: But I said Meow! That's kitty for thank you.

Aside from the kittyspeak, he has displayed feline tendencies in the following ways:
• Declining to put on clothes, because he has "fur."
• Putting a blanket on the floor and sleeping in his "cat bed."
• Eating directly from a bowl.
• Asking for said bowl to be put on the floor. (Request denied, though he's managed the feat a couple of times, as the photo attests.)

The handy thing is that we have figured out that Owen can be talked into doing things if he believes that cats would do them. Thus, the other day he ate a tuna sandwich solely because Sue assured him that cats like tuna.

This does have its limits, though. I tried to talk him into getting a haircut, which terrifies him, by telling him that I was going to take him to the cat groomer. No dice.