So the kid wore her wolf shirt to bed last night.
She wakes up this morning and goes into her wolf crouch, peering through her tangle of hair very fiercely -- did I mention she's been reading Jack London?
"I think I'm part wolf," she mentions.
"Well," I say, "you are, in fact."
She gives me a dubious look. I have to tell you up front I am not always strictly honest with my child. She has learned, that is, to doubt my word.
"What I mean," I explain hastily, "is humans and wolves descend from a common anscestor. So in that sense we are all part wolf."
"Oh." She ponders. "Do you think I'm one-third wolf? One-fifth?"
"I don't know the exact percentage," I admit. "Words are my business, not genes."
She thinks a bit longer, and emits a short howl. "I think I am more wolf than most people."
"I think you might be," I agree. "So long as you don't start tearing field mice to shreds with your fangs, I'm cool with it."
She giggles. "I'll just tear bean burritos to shreds," she assures me, and leaps around the bed, a wolf pouncing on burritos with all her fierce might.
1 hour ago