Learning to let go.

I've been learning some parenthood lessons in the last few weeks.

Our little Fluffmeister, aka, Merchant of Mayhem, aka, Gatto, is fast approaching a year old, and therefore adulthood. We're hoping that he will lose the mental kitten and become a dignified gentleman cat like his older brother.
One thing that has marked the move to adult status is that Gatto is now allowed to join Sniff in his exploration of the "big wide house." However, although he's been allowed outside since late January he hasn't really shown much interest, preferring instead to trot along around me in the house, curl up and snooze while I knit, and sleep on the radiator bed in the dining room while I cook in the evenings. We definitely have a habit of producing needy cats that are much more like dogs; loyal, follow you around, and will eat almost anything (no, really, does anyone else have a cat who will literally fight his way to your madras curry?!).
Although I've always worried if his desire to stay inside is what feeds his slightly manic nature - could he be going stir-crazy? I hadn't realised just how much I enjoy Gatto's homey tendencies until a few weeks ago when he finally discovered that actually there are some rather exciting things outside, like leaves that blow around, and his big brother who he can torment and chase outside as well as in. Suddenly I was wracked with fear that something would happen to my little fur baby, that he would get hurt, or not find his way home.

Which is ridiculous, because whereas Sniff is a classic ex-rescue fraidy-cat, Gatto still possesses that kittenish bravado that means no matter how big the foe he will turn and take them on, a tendency which seems to so stun other bigger cats that they stop in their tracks and leave him alone. And as for not coming home, well, we can always get a curry!
So this week I have been learning to let go of my little homey kitten, and am preparing for his leap into calm, dignified adulthood. Yeah. Right.