The mutt's what?

My toddler niece is smarter than I am or ever will be.  This was evident the first time she turned to me and said, “Are you in the middle of an existential crisis?”  I nearly choked on my burrito.

The great thing about being an aunt is I have a legitimate reason to turn into Robin Williams (sans the hairy arms).  Like him, I flail about, speak in funny voices and do impressions.  I’ve become especially good at Mickey Mouse – just ask my family.  Not to toot my own horn, but really bad accents are my specialty.  Think British and French accents that sound nothing like British or French accents.

In an effort to entertain my super smart niece and to prove I was a much better Mrs. Doubtfire, I invented a game which called for a British accent.  The reason for such an accent isn’t totally clear; I think it’s akin to speaking in tongues.  We were to find an imaginary frog.  My niece loved the idea and went along with it.  In my head I was thinking, “Yeah, she’s not fussing.”  (The accent was much better in my head.)  In my niece’s head I’m sure she was thinking, “Gotcha again, Auntie!”

She basically made the game meet her own ends.  Of course.  She likes it when I lift her up high and come falling down (softly).  So where is froggy?  He’s up on the ceiling right above Mommy’s bed.  She likes when you run after her.  So where’s froggy?  He’s down the hall.  No, he’s in the kitchen.  No, he’s on Mt. Everest.  It really doesn’t matter; just bloody run.

My niece even bettered my butchered accent.  She turned to me and said, “Isn’t this game the mutt’s nuts?”