Pete the Cat

“Una mano por aqui,” I sang as I helped you push your right arm through the sleeve. You looked down and knew something was new. These colors, patterns, and textures were slightly different—the stripes on your pants, colored with novelty. Your silence sounded like wonder. Were you expecting the purple pajamas or perhaps the Christmas set we insist on making you wear long after the holidays?

You tugged your shirt over your squishy little belly as hard as you could, trying to see what those shapes in blue and yellow represented. And there he was.

“Pete! Pete the cat!” you proclaimed and looked straight at me.

“Yes, mama! That’s Pete!” I echoed.

My mind records “first time!” moments often. I no longer write them down on a calendar or in a journal (with much regret), but I honor them by pausing for a few seconds to live that moment with you.

You kicked the ball! Pause, record.

You discovered that the balloon will go away if you don’t hold it tight. Pause, record.

You’re admiring one of your favorite characters printed on your pajama top. Pause, record.

Your eyes are swimming in wonder and possibilities. I imagine your brain whispering to you, Yes! Pete can live here, too!

As we ready ourselves for bedtime, you ask, “Pete sleep Enena?”

I embrace every speech specialist I’ve learned from when I affirm your ideas, “Yes, Pete will sleep with Elena in the crib.”

“Oh no! Other Pete!” you cry.

Something is wrong. Something is missing. We remember—Pete the stuffy, who I haven’t seen in days.

“He’s in my car!” Dada announces from the bathroom. “I’ll go get him.”

We arrange the curtains to cut out every inch of light that forces itself in at 7:30 PM (freaking time change), dim the lights, and turn the noise machine on.

Dad walks in and hands you the “Other Pete.”

“Pete!” You exclaim. Then, you toss him inside the crib and say, “A ñomi, a ñomi…” Honoring the song I sing to you every night before you sleep. This groovy cat will keep you company tonight.