"Give a little bit..."

"Give a little bit
Give a little bit of your love to me
Give a little bit
I'll give a little bit of my love to you
There's so much that we need to share
Send a smile and show you care..."

Sing it, Supertramp!

This little ditty has been going through my head a lot lately. Elliott, it seems, is desperately in love with our tortie cat, Java. As soon as he sees her, his eyes light up and he yells, "VAH-vah" (or sometimes "BAH-vah"). Then he scans the floor for a toy or book or cracker or sippy cup or whatever object he currently holds most dear and toddles it over to thrust in the poor cat's face.

"VAH-vah, VAH-vah!" he shrieks as he foists it upon her, usually sending her springing away in a fit of fear and irritation.

Here he is presenting a cracker:

And after a singularly unsuccessful attempt at winning her love with a dump truck:

Mealtime has also become an unrequited Elliott-to-Java lovefest. Java is no dummy. She's learned that mealtime holds a major benefit for her. My lap is much scarcer these days than it used to be. When Elliott is five-point-harnessed in his highchair, it's open season on lap warming. She twizzles and twirls her way around my lap, matting down the fuzz on my pants until it's suitable for nesting. All the while, Elliott watches, fascinated. Then he picks up his sippy cup or a bite of chicken or a morsel of pear and waves in it her face, making the little "pwuh-pwuh" kissy-face noises I use to attract our cats' attention. She ignores him and he looks distraught. We try to explain to him that Java eats CAT food (or the African violets, plastic grocery bags, etc.) and not his pears, but he doesn't seem to care. He keeps offering the olive branch and she keeps rejecting him.

It's a cute but sad little tango, and there are days during which it feels as if I spend way too much time trying to keep Elliott's fingers safe from Java's fangs. This morning was no exception, but after several attempts at refereeing, I got fed up and decided it was time to let the two duke it out. Java headed for the kitchen with Elliott--truck in tow--toddling along behind her. I assume he cornered her on top of one of the kitchen chairs, but I can't be sure. All I know is that I heard a sudden and insistant, "KKKHHHHHHHH!"

I anticipated screaming, bloodletting, a panicky call to the pediatrician, a week spent in the hospital while intravenous antibiotics course through my baby's body.

But, no. Not a heartbeat later, I heard a softer, "kkkhhhhhhh." It came from Elliott. He didn't realize Java was upset, so he just talked back to her, in her language.

Awwwwww.....

So now, when we ask Elliott, "What does Java say?" he responds, "KHHHHHH," and smiles. He'll do all he can to learn to communicate with her, anything to win her heart.

[Cue guitar]

"Give a little bit
I'll give a little bit of my love to you..."

Nieka