The Wayfaring Wordhack

As I posted recently, today is Tell-a-Fairy-tale day, and I had grand plans of posting an original tale. Life had a different plan, though. It is 9 p.m. here, but I still fully intended to finish up the story about the girl with the legs of a gazelle before going to sleep. At Soëlie's bedtime, something more special (to me) happened.

I still plan on posting the gazelle girl story, but I want to do it justice. I don't feel like rushing it. Sorry for those who were looking forward to reading something more than a personal entry.

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* For about two weeks now, Soëlie has been insisting she is a cat. Not just any cat, but "a little cat." You can't call her Soëlie, or you get a head shake and an "I'm a cat." You can't call her sweet cat/cheeky monkey/my love/etc., or she will purse her lips, raise her eyebrows, eyes almost closed as she looks down and to the side, then say, "Uhn uh. I'm a cat." People ask her her name and she, yes, you guessed it, answers, "I'm a cat."

She butts her head up against us and purrs; she licks her "paws" and cleans her face with them. Thankfully she hasn't started using the litter box or insisting we feed her in a bowl on the floor. :P The past couple of days, she's widened her repertoire and will deign to be a monkey, a little chien, a crocodile, or a kangaroo, but she always comes back to being a little cat. She assigns J and I animal roles, too; she sometimes lets me be a cat, but J is always something else.