So, Miss M. comes into the kitchen while I’m making dinner.
Miss M.: How ’bout you be Cinderella and I be Snow White? Cinderella is cooking.
(By now you can probably tell why I always get to be Cinderella.)
Me: Yep. Working hard.
Miss M: And Cinderella’s prince is mowing the lawn.
(This is true. My prince was, indeed, out mowing the lawn.)
Me: Yes, he works very hard to keep up the palace lawns.
Miss M: *casually* Snow White’s prince died before her birthday.
Me: Oh. That’s very sad. What happened to him?
(I know, I know. I really shouldn’t go there, but… morbid curiosity, so…)
Miss M: Oh, he didn’t get enough water.
Me: So Snow White’s prince is a plant got dehydrated? That’s too bad.
(I really, really shouldn’t pursue these Cinderella/Snow White conversations, but I can’t help wondering what’s going to come out of her mouth next!).