If the opportunity presents itself, I talk to Katie about loving Jesus and having him in our hearts and how he's always with us... (and how he can see EVERYTHING WE DO and how he knows EVERYTHING WE THINK, and how if there's mean and angry feelings in our hearts, there's NO ROOM FOR JESUS THERE. Not to scare her or anything. We might just happen to have these talks when she's in a mood and being... oh, a little mean and disrespectful though.)
Well, one day Katie told me she loves Jesus more than she loved me. I suspect this was meant to be a mean thing (like when she told Grandma that Grandma was a flower... a flower wilted and stuck in dirt or something like that, after Grandma wouldn't give her a third popsicle). And even if she meant it mean, it still gave me a good opportunity to tell her that she's supposed to love Jesus first and most, then her family and then other stuff.
This was a few days ago.
Fast forward to last night. Katie is in bed singing