Deep Thoughts from Little Girls

Our (Shrike's) niece and nephew spent the night with us last night. He's eleven, and she's eight.

As you can imagine, over the course of the evening, there was much discussion of "Baby Peeper" and what she's doing in my tummy (dancing), and what she likes (ice cream), and so on.

In the wee hours of the morning, I'd gotten up to go to the bathroom and feed the kitties (to get BoyCat out of my face) and when I returned to bed, she'd flopped across my spot and I had to rouse her a bit to move her out of the way.

As I crawled back into bed, she snuggled up to me and mumbled, "Do you think Baby Peeper knows she's alive? Do you think she knows she's a baby?"