So she's either going to be a con artist or a lawyer

Exhibit A: Last week, one of her former teachers told me that they'd been on the playground and that she had been sitting on a bench with one of A's classmates. A sidled up, took stock of the situation, and (according to the teacher), got a crafty look. She tapped the other little girl on the shoulder and said, "Hey, there's a swing open for you!" The other girl ran off and A sat down next to the teacher and confided, "There's not really a swing open. I just wanted to sit next to you."

Exhibit B: Also last week, A asked T if she could have some marshmallows. (We have a bag of mini ones leftover from the birthday cake. And no, don't ask.) He said, "Sure, you can have 10 a day." (This must be some arbitrary marshmallow-divvying rule of which I was previously unaware.) So she downed them, then asked for more, and T reiterated the 10-a-day rule. A short time later, A asked T if he could get out her Dora the Explorer play tent, and he said sure and set it up for her. Then she smiled and said, "Now that we're camping, we need marshmallows to roast."

Exhibit C: Last night, Cleo (nee, NoKitty) was sleeping on A's cardboard cutout of Yoda (also from the birthday; A likes to play with it and frequently lies him down for naps). When A noticed, she immediately got territorial and tried to shoo Cleo off of Yoda. (Things I never thought I'd type, part LCVIII.) We told her to leave Cleo alone. A wandered off and came back with a cat toy and waved it at Cleo. No dice; the cat held her post. So then A went and foraged in the kitchen for a minute and returned with the bag of cat treats. Cleo bit--she got up and ran toward the treats, and A threw them at her and gleefully absconded with Yoda to her playroom.

So, jury, what say you? I'm leaning toward con artist, myself.