Yesterday evening, she asked me, "Can I put on some make-up, Mama?"
"Sure, Oat," I replied, thinking she was going to put on the lipgloss that I'd designated as hers. It used to be mine, but after I'd seen her smearing it on the walls and sink in the bathroom, I bequeathed it to her.
She disappeared into her room while I made dinner.
A few minutes later, she pounced into the kitchen.
"Ohhh, well, look at... you," I remarked. "You're a cat, huh?"
"No, Mom! I'm a spy! I'm Agent Cat!"
"Well, of course you are. But before you slink off to fight crime, come sit down and have some dinner."
"I don't eat dinner. I'm a CAT, Mom!" She looked at me, incredulous that I'd forgotten so quickly.
"That's okay. It's not people food. It only looks like mostaccoli. It's really Cat Chow", I lied.
She looked dubious, but agreed to drink some milk. Out of a bowl. Yeah.
Oh well, it could've been worse. She could've been Agent Bird and insisted I regurgitate a worm into her mouth.