Gray

I was reading Rowan a scintillating book about how black and white make gray, and then he decided to look it over himself.

On that last page, you can pull down the tab and close the cat's eyes, which is a denouement on the level of, say, Scout Finch walking Boo Radley home, or Lords Capulet and Montague shaking hands.

Four seconds before that photo, Lyla scurried over and attempted to rip the book out of Rowan's hands.  After I intervened, she burst into wails at the injustice of not getting exactly what she wanted the instant she wanted it, and I took a picture of her in full toddler freakout. 

I can't post that picture, though, or Lyla will start a blog one day called "My Dad's Receding Hairline" and post daily photographic updates.