The Maestro likes to pretend. He goes through phases of pretending different things. All night last night, and again this morning when we went to the park, he has a new fantasy. He is a two-week-old kitty. He’s a two-week-old kitty who can drive a tractor. He’s a two-week-old kitty who can drive a tractor because he’s a farmer.
He’s a two-week-old kitty who can drive a tractor because he’s a farmer who has cows that need nests built out of grass because they are having baby cows coming out of their tummies soon, and need someplace soft to put the baby calves. I’m a daddy kitty, and Hildr is the baby kitty who can’t drive the tractor yet, because you have to be two-weeks-old to have learned to drive a tractor, obviously.
Hildr thinks it’s great that her older brother is a cat, because we don’t have a real one, and it gives her something to pet gently on the head.
I haven’t figured out yet if he is a kitten-prodigy to have learned to drive a tractor at two weeks, or if that is something that all kitty farmers can do.
Pre-school starts tomorrow…
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