Buttercup twirled around the living room. Spinning round and round, she followed me into the kitchen. As she practiced her pirouettes, she sweetly sang “George and Paul, George and Paul.”
With glee, I gave her a standing ovation. Unfortunately I interrupted the artist and she did not take kindly to my clapping. Like the diva she was born to be, she went to admire herself pout in the reflection of the sliding glass door.
Buttercup turned back to me and asked, “Would you like to hear my angry song?”
“Yes!” I encouraged.
She marched back to the centre of the room and in her rock and roll voice she shouted, “George and Paul! George and Paul!”
I wanted to ask her what about Ringo and John but I thought it would probably be better to fill her rider requests without another incident.