Petra has developed quite the active imagination. About a month ago, she started telling me that the vehicles in the picture book we were looking at belonged to Mama or Daddy or Petra. And she's moved on from there to much more elaborate fantasies. She has rosy tea parties (Dorothy the Dinosaur apparently drinks rosy tea) where she pours cups of water for her cousin and aunt and their dog Daisy and the neighbour's cat, and for her parents if we're particularly lucky. She tells stories about the people she knows as well as her toys. Daisy dog figures prominently – she carries sticks and takes showers and sits in our lounge (Petra announces that "Daisy Dog is in the house," several times a day, which I rather like because she sounds like a pint-sized concert promoter.)
Petra's cousin Olivia also gets lots of mentions. This morning I was woken by Petra putting her arm around my neck, digging her toes into my back, and telling me over and over that Olivia was Supergirl and Petra was Superboy. I don't know where she got that idea from. As far as I know, she hasn't seen or heard any kind of superhero stories. But Supergirl and Superboy they were. And when Olivia came to stay this afternoon, they ran up and down the hallway, arms outstretched, being superheroes for all they were worth.