A Glimpse into Kenzie's Mind

So, Monday, Kenzie (4) is the doctor, and I am the patient. The diagnosis: Chicken Pops. Of course I need a shot and a lot of medicine, which by the way, tastes like banana splits with hot fudge sauce (like mother, like daughter). Somewhere during the course of play, Dr. Kenzie discovers a huge chicken pop on my big toe. The only course of action, apparently, is to cut it off. Not the chicken pop--the toe. Kenzie leaves the room for a few minutes and returns with a pair of her craft scissors. This is about the time that I realize that I am not entirely engaged in this playtime. I have picked up a magazine and am reading it while she is examining and treating me. I am only half-aware that we are still playing this game, so I am not really prepared to see my 4-year-old daughter coming toward my foot with a pair of blunt-tip scissors, ready to remove my toe! When I jump, she looks startled, smiles shyly, and says, "I wasn't really going to cut it off, mom." What a relief!

Occasionally, Kenzie will reminisce about the time when she had a "different mommy & daddy." Now, this is not true. Kenzie has been ours and only ours since birth, but memory is not static to her. She has the ability to completely rewrite history, and I find this creativity endearing, so I don't correct her. She will have plenty of time in her life to learn that our memories aren't always at our convenience. So yesterday, she told me another story about when she had a different mommy & daddy. This time she explained to me that it was way back when they lived in the sky, above the clouds. Apparently, her "different mommy & daddy" didn't make her eat healthy food, but now she knows that she should.

Here's a predicament: sometimes when Kenzie prays, she imagines God talking to her. Should I allow this or should I correct her? I don't want her to think of God as an imaginary friend, like her boyfriend Jacob (who, incidentally, has died about 100 times, but keeps coming back to life). But I also don't see much harm in it. In fact, I want her to know that God does talk to us, just not in an actual voice. Yesterday, for example, we were praying before lunch, and she said she wanted to pray.
Hands folded, head bowed, eyes closed: "Dear God, why did you make all this healthy food? ... Oh, okay. Just a minute, God."
Looking at me: "He said he made it so we could grow big and healthy."
Head bowed, and eyes closed again: "Thank you, God, for the healthy food."
How do I argue with that?