Babes In Boyland
I'm really a friendly little love goddess -- a pocket Venus -- but my short-shorts would lead you to believe otherwise.
Fiction, that is. Not what I'm wearing.
Ok, yeah. I've got a pair of those too.
So, I've been watching my boyos play the past couple of days. I try to do it quietly, unobtrusively, because I don't want to break the spells they weave.
They've got a whole world between the two of them, populated with all sorts of characters. Mind you, some are pulled directly from Dr. Seuss and Disney, and those good, old laugh-a-minute Grimm Brothers, but they put a new spin on them. Pretty soon, The Cat in the Hat and Thing One and Thing Two are leading Pinnochio off to be punished by the Three Bears for 'deading' Simba's daddy.*
It's a post-modern world, after all. Sing with me. It's a po-mo world.
I'm very proud of them, for so many reasons. They drive me insane, especially when they do fight -- and then the hitee gets angry at me when I suggest a time-out for the hitter. (Don't ever let anyone tell you twins get along ALL THE TIME.) But hey, maybe they'll defend each other in school, too.
*(Yeah. They know about death, thanks to our cat, the mighty bird and rabbit hunter. And they are fascinated with it, almost as much as getting away with saying 'poop.')