This morning I got to sleep in a bit and wound up chilling out in bed while my three-year-old daughter (aka Nublet) “read” me a story from an illustrated book of cat poems. (And by “read,” I mean she looks at the pictures and makes up her own words. Thanks to a healthy dose of Dr. Seuss at bedtime, the girl actually has a frighteningly good sense of meter and rhyme. She is a nascent bookworm and geek, and me and my wife are thusly Very Proud Parents.)
She got to a poem with a drawing of two cats at a cat show, one smugly wearing a blue ribbon and the other sulking. She stared for a second, and then said:
“I’m a winner. You’re a wooser. A big, biiiig wooser.” *pause* “My skin is furry.”
Whaddaya think, gang? 3v3 arena material when she gets a little older?
