"You mean, besides what I already told you?" Izzy replied, but it was with an air of innocent teasing. Picking up another french fry, she chewed thoughtfully before answering.
"Well, for starters, we both like lots of the same stuff and don't like the same other stuff," she told him, the answer careful rather than vague, as the little girl was having trouble deciding just what to tell him and what to leave to surprise. "I like being outside, and dogs and horses and--my favorite stuffed animal? You picked him out for me when I was a baby? He's a pony, and his name is Binky." That couldn't hurt, she decided. If nothing else, it might cement that fact in her life, here. Izzy didn't want to imagine growing up without Binky. "Mom says I'm probably gonna take him to college with me."
But that was only the tip of the iceberg. "N' I hate cats, just like you do. When I was a three, Mama tried bringing one home? And we found out I'm allergic so bad I couldn't breathe. And they make me sneeze and my eyes get all watery and it is terrible."
The list went on, even if the details deemed important by a child who had only just turned nine weren't exactly what Lindsey was looking for. "We can both eat forever, if we want to, and not gain a 'single ounce'? Mama says I must have gotten that from you, not her." Her nose wrinkled, amused by the memory. "She also says it's 'infuriating.'. ---OH!"
She leaned forward on her elbows against the table, thoroughly inspecting Lindsey's face to ensure that it was just the same here as at home. Satisfied, an easy smile took over her small features. "And we have the very same eyes."