Head-thumping

Although I am becoming phenomenally proficient at Animal Clairvoyance in preparation for my new-found career as a Pet Psychic, I have discovered that I am extremely deficient in getting inside my children’s heads.
Two cases in point:

1.) Butterfly was aghast that I wouldn't let her drive the Toyota to her social event tonight. Super Hubs and I preferred to take the Toyota on our Date (It’s newer, better on gas mileage, and, let’s face it, way hotter), but offered the mini-van to Buttefly. She refused it. So, thinking I was being generously flexible, I volunteered to chauffeur her to her friend’s home. She gave me a look not unlike the horror-filled countenance she wore when she discovered, at age 7, how babies were conceived. “OMG! Are you kidding me?? No seniors ever get driven by their parents!! What do you think I am; a Freshman??” (Said with scorn.)
So, given her choices were,
A.) Stay home,
B.) Drive the minivan,
C.) Find a ride;
she promptly found a ride.
Just yesterday, Butterfly thought I was cool enough to exist while stuffing her wallet with allowance money. Tonight she fancies herself an orphan, needing to sponge rides off unsuspecting friends. Who knew??

2.) Little Squirt joined us at Buffalo Wild Wings for dinner this evening. He spent the night staring googly-eyed at the blonde preschooler sitting at the neighboring table, his mini-corn dogs and smiley-face fries going cold on his plate. At one point, he turned to me and whispered, “Mommy, I can’t get that girl off my mind.” Then, thinking I didn’t take his statement seriously enough, he whispered, more ferociously, “I mean it, Momma! I can’t get her off my mind!” So either he’s a budding pop songwriter, or my little boy thinks she’s The Bomb.
Just yesterday Little Squirt discovered that there are two genders in humankind. And tonight, he’s in love. Who knew again??

I am finding the mind of a Rottweiler much less complex. I think it's a wise career choice, veritably.