Who's the Adult here?

I was reading The Bloggess's latest post about her new dead pegasus when my seven year old daughter walked up. I covered up the cuss words and let her see the pictures. Her response was, "Huh. When the dog dies, can we get a kitten?"

Seriously? You see a picture of a pegasus with a kitten riding on its head and you focus on the kitten?

I looked at her blankly, so she asked, "Is that a real pegasus?"  There's the normal response I expected. As if there is a "normal response" to seeing a real pegasus with a kitten on its head.

"No, it's a zebra colt with goose feathers sewn on. But it looks pretty real, doesn't it?"

"Yeah. So? The kitten?"

"A pet pegasus would be way better than a kitten."

She rolled her eyes at me. "You'd just go flying around everywhere all the time."

Well, no duh. "Yeah, and it would be totally awesome."

"I guess. It could fly G to school so we wouldn't have to drive him. That would be great."

Why on earth is my little girl so dang practical? It's weird. If she hadn't squirted out of me and if she didn't look like my little clone, I'd swear she wasn't even mine.

xxx

I know I owe you stories from my vacay (travelling circus asylum). I'm just having trouble writing right now. Sorry. Responsibility overload.