“I love you, Lady Kitty! I love you, Sweetheart,” I say, smiling into her big blue eyes, which are brimming with determination and amusement.

“No. ‘Baby!'” she replies to her name and other endearments with surprising resolution.

That’s pretty cute. We all call her ‘Baby’ from time to time, perhaps more than we know, especially Michael. He calls her almost exclusively ‘Baby,’ as in “Baby, you’re a tiny baby!”

Now, she thinks her name is ‘Baby’. She owns her name as ‘Baby’.

Okay. ‘Baby’. I play along.

“I love you, Baby!” I say, kissing her wispy curls and inhaling her toothsome aroma.

She pauses, quiescent and dubious.

“No. Kitty,” she says.