Bow To The Kateness

The other night, Kelly, my writing partner, sent me this email:  "So we’re putting Kate to bed tonight, lights are out, she’s quiet, almost asleep and then she blurts out, 'Ride in Carol’s car?  Where are you Carol?  You comin’ back Carol?  I play with Carol all day long.' I think somebody misses you."  Kate is only two, but clearly, she knows how to identify the fun people.  "I'll come over on Friday," I wrote back.  How could I resist?  When you're summoned by the Kateness, as her royal followers tend to call her, you show up at the appointed time.  Yesterday, I arrived at the palatial estate where this take-charge toddler holds court.  "Look who's here!" Kelly said.  Whereupon Kate proceeded to say my name, over and over, and dance through the house.  "Carol! Carol!  I play with Carol all day long."  I don't know about you, but the only one that greets me like this at my own house is my dog, and he's still having trouble pronouncing my name.  All I get from him is, "Treat?  Treat?  Treat?"  It was a wonderful visit, during which Kelly and I got no work done, none whatso, but then, that's to be expected when Kate's in the house.  Closed doors don't deter her.  Pretty much, nothing does.  One day, the Kateness will be president of something grand, and if I remain in her favor, I hope to be there, to fetch her coffee or her favorite blankie.