Last night, after a game of Descent. I picked up a cat toy, a 2 foot long rod crested with feathers and a single bell, and began teasing the kitten. Freyja chased, batted and leaped after it in a near frenzy. Brie, the adult cat of the house, watched on from the TV stand. I casually began to trace arcs with the jingling bell that drew closer and closer to her as well, but try as I might I couldn’t get her to do more than extend her paw and tap. Finally, I gave up on drawing her into the game and turned my full attention to the excited kitten.
A short while later, I put the toy down. Wielding that magic toy is a surprising bit of work, and I was getting tired. But as I put it down, Bethany took it up and began the game again. As I watched Freyja cavort about I realized that Brie was watching her just as intently. So, laughing at my own cleverness, I picked at the “adult” cat. “You know, you’re not to old for that.” I didn’t expect a response. I didn’t expect her to understand. But she did, and she finally left her perch to join in the game.
That little moment left me with something to chew on. In my life, I’m more like Brie. I watch the fun from the sidelines, restrained by some accepted idea about what being an adult is. I won’t go so far as to say that there are not times when an adult’s wisdom is the appropriate restraining hand, but I think there are probably more times when I need to heed my own words to a hesitant cat.
“You know, you’re not to old for that.”