1) This evening, she composed an operetta for Go Dog, Go! and sang it to me before bed. I particularly enjoyed the soaring passage as the dogs ascended the tree at the end to join the dog party.
Will they work there?
Will they play there?
What is up there on top of that tree?
A dog party!
A big dog party!
And finally, the triumphant acceptance of the hat, after so many rejections.
I laughed. I cried. I wanted to engage a string section.
2) Her description, in detail and with appropriate dance moves, of three of her male classmates emerging from the bathroom break wearing their t-shirts cascading of the back of their heads (like hair) singing "I'm just a Barbie girl...in a Barbie world..."
3) Today, she insisted on showing me her diary. It's possible that, when she is 17, she will crucify me for betraying a confidence, but the January 19th entry reads:
I think I have a crush on Zachary. He knows more about Pokemon than ANYbody I know. He says I'm funny. He told me I have to figure out how to beat the seventh gym leader on my own, but then he came back at recess and told me how. I think that means he likes me.
A word to the wise, Bug: A man who enjoys your sense of humor and will help you achieve your goals is a keeper.