Scene: kitchen table, toys scattered over floor, school drawings on table, etc...
Emma: Mama, let's open the package! Quick, sit down!
Me: How can I sit down? There's a troll in my chair! It's Princess Fiona! What is Princess Fiona doing in my chair? If I sit on a troll, I could hurt myself.
Emma: Mama, don't be silly. (Next said with a tone one would use when explaining that of course the grass isn't purple) Princess Fiona is not a troll. She's a yogurt.
Me: My fault. Of course she is.
1 comment:
She's so grown up!! Soon she'll be texting, and twittering, and dating and driving. Oh my!
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