A few years ago, I realized that pets were called pets because they liked to be pet. And when I a say a few  years ago, I mean when I was in my 30s. I felt quite silly as it now seems so obvious.

And then last night, I found a whole new reason to feel silly.

Katherine and I were reading one of our favorites, Chrysanthemum by Kevin Henkes. Every time we read, I fall in love with the sweet little mouse all over again. She so loves her name until her new classmates decide that it is just too different. They pick on her relentlessly until a kind teacher sweeps in to make everything ok.

I wonder how many times I have read this line,

“Chrysanthemum felt much better after her favorite dinner (macaroni and cheese with ketchup) and an evening filled with hugs and kisses and Parcheesi.”

I guess I have probably read that line no less than 50 times.

So when Katherine last night giggled, “She loves Parcheesi cause she’s a mouse!”, I admit I faked it.

“That’s right, sweetie!” I said, pretending that I had known that all along.

I suppose this means that Kevin Henkes knew about pets a long time ago too…