"Quick!!! Hit Babytrash with the shovel before he gets away!"
This morning has been all about playing. We haven't been this ridiculous in a long time. From the moment I realized my wife wasn't home it's been gangbusters. Speaking of which, my wife had left for work very early. In the middle of the night she had gone over to my son's room to lie down with him in the vain hope he might go to sleep (he has The Cold). So when I got up to the sound of my son throwing shoes over the stair-gate it was still before 6am (very late for me) I thought she was catching a sly extra hours sleep in my son's bed. I went up to get her at 6.30 and discovered she was already up and gone.
Anyhoo everyone was up and bouncing off the walls at that point. My daughter was electric with excitement because the morning weather had forecast snow. I'm not sure why but this triggered the creative part of her hyperactive brain and she just started ranting off stories. She wanted to play Princess Bounce and was trying to set the scene. But she'd get bored or over-excited and quickly change it to something else. Mostly though she wanted me to crawl along the living room floor while her and her brother attempted to knock me over. Imagine a giant Wooly Mammoth being attacked by cavemen. Or the Lilliputians attacking Gulliver. Same thing.
More importantly though the kids were very happy. I wasn't about to chase that away. So when my daughter finally settled on the storyline of Captain Kick-A-Dick (that's me) and Officer Squash-a-Squirrel (her) I didn't have the heart to point out that my name was not only inappropriate, but was also probably already claimed by that Scottish cab driver who kicked the on-fire terrorist in the spuds at Glasgow airport in 2007.
Anyhoo, my daughter framed the story as me - Captain Kick-A-Dick and his trusty sidekick Officer Squash-A-Squirrel were crawling around looking for their arch enemy - Babytrash - who was being played by my son. You knew he was Babytrash because he was wearing a flimsy plastic fireman's helmet we got from the bank in a promotion. Everyone kept being stuck inside the Clumsy Cloud that Babytrash "released" (I'll give you two guesses as to what that means) and would accidentally end up jumping on each other and then tickling the nearest person. Wanting to contribute myself to the storyline I kept fishing for more information. Apparently Babytrash had two weapons. One was The Clumsy Cloud, which really is an astonishingly powerful weapon that cares not for collateral damage. But his biggest weapon seems to be that he's, "quite pokey." This is because my son has very boney feet and knees, with which he likes to jab right into your body when he's ninja-slamming into you. Luckily though Officer Squash-A-Squirrel has enlisted the aid of The World's Tiniest Man. Who, luck would have it, always carries a tiny shovel with him (it's actually a tiny plastic shovel about the length of your thumb that I found in the backyard last Spring). I tried in vain to have her call it The Shovel Of Shazam!! (the exclamation marks have to be in the name as well) but she didn't go for it.
In the end though it was snowing too hard for even my tickly fingers to maintain their attention. My son has no idea what snowfall is - he was too little last year. So after his sister made him look out the window he stood there astonished yelling, "Rain!!" over and over again. A much better reaction than she ever gave by the way. When she was younger we all woke up to a gargantuan snow fall and we took her out to marvel at it. We put her in snow clothes, put her on a sled and she literally didn't give a shit. She really could not have behaved less excited. At was as if she didn't even notice and was irritated to be in stupid immovable clothes on a tray in the backyard. My son though was completely apoplectic. He was behaving like it was possible that this had never happened before. In his repeated, "Rain!!" I could hear, "Stop being so bloody nonchalant and look outside - THIS IS HOW IT ALL ENDS!!" My daughter helpfully pointed out to him that he needn't worry. After all all that was haoppening was that tiny marshmallows were falling from the sky.
Being Friday though we went out to the Thrift Store. Came back with a ridiculous Christmas cardigan for her and a tree ornament. The place was swarming with parasitical old ladies because there was a bag sale. I'm told by the Thrift Store people that some Friday's we are it - no one else shows. Usually though it's about 10 people. Today there were a good 50 all breaking the simple rule of, "it starts at 10am." When I got there at ten-to-ten they had burst through the doors and hoarded all the good stuff for themselves.
After hitting the Thrift Shop my daughter continued a long running game she plays sometimes when we come back to the house. She runs inside while I'm getting her brother out of the car. Then I have to knock the door and she pretends that she lives in the house by herself. She then shows me around and tells us we can live with her. This morning she pointed out that she has a magnet made out of a CD and that, "there's lots of mayonnaise in the cupboard." Then she told us there were two extra bedrooms upstairs but we can all share one big bed to keep warm. Then worryingly she said, "I let anyone sleep there - I don't even need to know their names!"
It's like having an inside into what she'll be like in college. Ick.