Children are Puppies and Teens are Cats

I had the untimely and reluctant pleasure of allowing a dog into my home after years of neglectful comfort living with cats. When our family decided to adopt two cats, I knew I was allowing Satan into my home, but kittens are so cute, right? Kittens are small, fuzzy, and come equipped with faces designed to override good judgment.  It led to this epiphany: inasmuch as puppies and cats are allegedly animals of the same planet, they are entirely different species, possessed of distant customs and incompatible philosophies. Much the same, I’ve discovered, can be said of children and teenagers—who share a roof, a last name, and very little else.

The Innocence of Childhood (aka The Puppy Phase)

Children (i.e., those fortunate ones who have not graced the door of puberty) show a rare, yet brief, innocence. Children greet you like you’ve been gone for years, even if you just went to another room. They follow you everywhere, tell you all their thoughts out loud, and think you are the center of the universe. You are their everything… well, at least their snack provider. Inasmuch as they try, children waver between following rules and expecting rules to follow their lead.  It may not always be less frustrating, and it is simpler to discipline a child. There is a more concrete/black and white nuance that makes sense, because their brains are not equipped to grasp the abstract concepts of how certain behaviors lead to consequences. Usually, a firm “No” followed by “Because I said so” will typically suffice.

The Teenage Transformation (aka The Feline Takeover)

Then, one day, they turn into cats. Teens still live at home, but pretend it’s their house. They emerge mostly at night, communicate in grunts, and demand food without making eye contact. They want affection; just not in public, not for too long, and definitely not when you initiate it. Both can be sweet. Both can be destructive. And somehow, despite the chaos, you love them just the same- even when the cat uses your leather couch as a pin cushion while staring directly at you with an incredulous expression which translates as, “What?”.

The Cynicism Chronicles

We can love and hate the cynicism that comes from these loved teens. How many times can one adolescent say “Why?” It’s really the same as the way one loves a cat that has learned to speak but uses the talent only to insult you. Cynicism has its place in the world. It puts the brakes on trusting strangers, politicians, and packaged food with no expiration date, but in excess, it becomes an unwitting, sadistic, and cruel pastime, and not a very productive one.

Adolescence, in particular, treats cynicism as a growth spurt of the mind. It arrives suddenly, revels in chaos as someone performing a cannonball in a pool full of grandmas doing water aerobics, and asks questions not to learn, but to question every single minute iota of life- and not because they seek an answer, but because they have discovered that why is the verbal equivalent of poking a sleeping bear with a stick. One adolescent can say “Why?” enough times to undo centuries of philosophical truths, cause an exponential number of parental meltdowns, and at least one negotiated time on TikTok. The question is, in essence, simple. Somewhere between the first and the millionth “why,” we realize the terrible truth: adolescents are not questioning the world—they are rehearsing for adulthood.

The Unwritten Manual of Parenting

Before any hint of having kids enters one’s mind, there is a nagging whisper from your future pragmatic parent, “You realize they don’t come with directions, right?” No one tells future parents that “assembly is required”. Once the little bundles become mobile, quickly followed by forming words, then sentences, which eventually turn into a chorus of “I’m fine. Leave me alone,” which later matures into the always popular “I’m fine. Leave me alone.” To our dismay, we soon discover that we are attempting to build Ikea furniture in the dark and with Swedish instructions- while being brutally judged by the furniture.

The Guilt and Revelation of Parenting

Parents contract this dreaded disease from their children, called guilt. Just try not to feel guilty about being guilty. It impairs one’s judgment. Then inevitably, you reluctantly discover parenting is not punishment but a revelation. It’s realizing that love and exasperation can coexist so closely that they share a comfortable blanket without resorting to, “Your foot is on my side.”  It is discovering that you can give someone everything—food, shelter, values, unconditional love—and they still are offended that they have to subject themselves to broccoli for dinner. It does take having kids to realize that “punishment,” after all, is not about revenge or drama, but about patience and authenticity, with a quiet belief that life itself will eventually do the explaining.