“Freddie, guess what?”
He perked up from his furry blanket nest. “What?”
“You’re a good boy!”
“I know,” he said, laying his head back down.
You know how this works, but as always, a gentle reminder:
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“Do you know how good you are?” I asked.
One eye opened. “How good?”
“You’re as good as a lit fireplace and a good book on a rainy day!”
The other eye opened. “Is that pretty good?”
“It’s the best!”
“You’re as good as a slice of chocolate cake and a glass of milk.”
He sat up. “I like milk,” he said.
“You’re as good as a hot shower and a soft bed after a long day of working outside.”
“I like beds,” he told me, growing enthusiastic.
“You're as good as when that one sports team wins the sports match and gets that trophy that they always take pictures of themselves drinking beer out of it which always seems kind of gross to me.”
He frowned. “Is that good?”
I frowned back at him. “It seems to be. People get really excited about it but I don’t really know sports.”
Freddie started to get excited. “You know how good you are?” he asked me.
“No! How good?”
“You’re as good as a dirty shoe!”
“Um...”
“You’re as good as a cricket without it’s jumping legs!”
“I — “
“You’re as good as a day old french fry that fell out of the trash!”
We stared at each other.
“Wow,” I said, slowly. “That’s all so good.”
“So good,” Freddie said.
"That’s all pretty weird,” I said.
“Yeah, you’re pretty weird,” he agreed. “I can’t even eat chocolate cake.”
“You know how pretty you are?” I asked suddenly.
“No!” he said, his eyes dilating in his enthusiasm.
“You’re as pretty as a sunset in Hawaii!”
“I don’t know what ‘Hawaii’ is!”
“You’re as pretty as Aphrodite in a clamshell!”
“Clams are fish!” he shouted.
“You’re as pretty as a french pastry!”
“You love french pastries!” he pointed out, excited.
“I really do,” I agreed.
"Do you know how pretty you are?” he demanded.
I put my chin in my hands. “How pretty?” I asked.
“You’re as pretty as the spider on the wall last week!”
“Was...was that pretty?”
“I couldn’t stop staring at it,” he gushed.
“...okay...”
“You’re as pretty as my shed fur blowing across the floor!”
“I usually sweep that up,” I pointed out.
“You’re as pretty as bottle lid pushed under the couch!”
“Because you can’t stop staring at it?” I guessed.
“That’s right!”
“You know how sweet you are?” I asked, shaking off the comparison of my face to a spider on the wall.
“How sweet?” he asked.
"You’re so sweet a bear would pass up a honeycomb for you!”
“Wow!” Freddie said.
“You’re so sweet I get a stomach ache if I pet you on an empty stomach!”
“Because you can’t eat sweets on an empty stomach without getting a stomach ache!” he remembered.
“That’s right! You’re so sweet that if I made you into a pie, I’d have to sprinkle salt on top to make it edible!”
He stared at me.
“You add salt to balance out sweet,” I explained. “It’s a baking trick.”
“Okay!” he said.
“Do you know how sweet you are?” he asked me right back.
“No! How sweet?”
“I don’t know!” Freddie shouted. “I can’t taste sweet!”
I laughed. “I forgot about that,” I said.
Happy Caturday, Peeps! You guys are all so wonderful you’re like a double rainbow over a waterfall! You’re so nice you make Jane Bennet look like the evil stepsister! You’re so great if you stand outside you can been seen from the ISS! I love you guys, is what I’m saying.