June is eating her french toast sticks while I sit on the computer, when she walks up to me.
"My pet is right over there."
I look into the living room where she's pointing. "Right over there."
"What kind of pet is it?"
"What's its name?"
"Bingo" I seriously didn't even see where this was going.
"That's a good name for a dog. What color is it?"
"It's gray." Her hands are now stretched out as if she has her hands on a little Jack Russel.
"Oh, yeah. How big is it."
"It's BIG." Her hands get wider and higher. "He's very tall."
"Oh, he seems tall." My hands go up with hers.
"Yeah. And will you sing with me?"
"What? What do you want me to sing?"
"Sing it with me."
"I'm sorry hon, I really don't know what you want me to sing."
"Once a farmer had a dog, and Bingo was his name-o. B-I-N-G-O. B-I-N-G-O. B-I-N-G-O. And Bingo was his name-o." To which she ran back to her breakfast.
Punked by my two-year-old. I've got to work on this before she gets to be a teenager.