So I tease Katherine an awful lot. (I blame my Dad.) I’ve realized for a while that she realizes this, but I’m coming to realize that she enjoys playing it as a game, too.
The other day, driving home, she mentioned how (given the costume that was hanging in the closet) she was going to be a purple kitty for Halloween.
“Ah. A purple doggy.”
“No, a purple kitty!”
“Oh, a pink kitty!”
“No, a purple kitty!”
“Ah, I see, I purple giraffe.”
“No, Daddy, a purple kitty!”
She’ll go on and on with this for several minutes, seeming mildly put out but enjoying correcting me (exhausting my list of colors and animals, let alone those that are alliterative with “purple” or “kitty”). But I figured it was one of those one-off sorts of things.
Yesterday, driving home, she asserted, “I’m going to be a purple kitty for Halloween.”
“Ah,” I said. “That’s right.”
“No, Daddy!” she chided. “You say, ‘a purple doggy,’ and then I say, ‘no, a purple kitty,’ and then you say, ‘a pink kitty,’ then I say, ‘a purple kitty.’ Go ahead and say it, Daddy.”
She’s not only got my number, she’s got it on speed dial …