Frida came in the kitchen and stood back as Lavender wove her way between my feet, watching. I bent down to pet the kitten and Frida said, in her delightful high, light & sing-song voice - can I pet her? We sat on the kitchen floor and I said of course. She picked up Lavender with her little girl skills, and walked away in absolute bliss. She was the perfect picture of childhood wonder and innocence, white pj's sprinkled with pink & blue flowers, trimmed in pink, clutching a freaked out kitten. Does it get more perfect?