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!).