While I helped finish up the food, scraping the last bit of the fried rice from the container, Princess was busy playing games on her laptop. She was taking a break from the brushes and the tape; she said she had been in here since she got back from school, working on the walls and ceiling until her shoulders ached.
Watching her click those controllers, her eyes reflecting the bright colors of the monitor, totally focused on that game, I realized something.
She had earned the right to give the pups the names she wanted. She had earned it a hundred times over.
When she first told me she wanted to name the pups after one of her favorite cartoons, I refused instantly. I threw a fit because I was the one carrying them, doing all the heavy lifting with my body, and they would probably come out looking more like her than me anyway. I told her no, flat out, and we ended up arguing every single time either of us brought it up during dinner or before bed.
