Mine! Mine!

Wesley and I got into a good natured argument tonight about whose cat Cleo was. She was sitting on my lap, purring and cuddling me so I said, "Are you my good little girl?"

"No," Wesley called from across the room. "She's mine."

"Wrong, she's mine," I answered.

"No. She's mine." Wesley said.

This continued for a couple more rounds of "mine" before Ryan yelled out "Mom, he named her so she's his cat. End of story."

Guess he told me. But Cleo is still mine.