Monday, November 1, 2010
So this post will be short. I am reporting something second-hand, for one thing. It has to do, tangentially, with those vampire fangs Collin is sporting here (look closely). Those fangs were part of a whole haul of Halloween-themed (ahem) junk that they brought home from school, including rubber rats, skeleton erasers, spider rings, etc.
So the twins are out on the porch playing quietly (uh-oh.) Daddy asks what, exactly, they are doing.
"Oh, you know, we're playing. It's like bow and arrow except with rats."
Daddy, wisely, didn't inquire further.
Silly us. Now he wakes up and we can hear him in his crib: "Book! Book!" He goes and gets books and hands them to you and then walks off and gets more books and hands them to someone else. He sits down and looks up at you expectantly. He gets them out of the bathroom and/or brings them into the bathroom. He climbs the stairs to get them and then tries to carry them downstairs with him. He pulls them out of his siblings' backpacks . . .
And as you can see, he likes to read them. Thank heavens.
Well, but not that hard. Because Lilah clearly was made for the SCA. For those of you who don't know, that's the acronym for the Society for Creative Anachronism, which is those people who work at Ren Fests or (more likely even) go to Ren Fests in full costume and with elaborate accents and backstories and who spend hundreds of dollars on real chain mail and bustiers and wear fairy wings at their weddings.
These are her people.
"Hallo! Are you a princess?" called the greeters to Lilah as we entered the Fair.
"No!" (exasperated.) "I'm a fairy lady-in-waiting."
The children had each earned money to spend at the Fest. Collin bought a wooden sword and has been very happy. He has only almost killed me once with it.
Lilah bought: a rose dipped in hot melted wax then rolled in glitter, a necklace with a cat pendant on it, a tiny teddy bear with bells sewn onto his feet and a peacock feather. She WANTED to buy a stuffed, flower-bedecked unicorn big enough to sit on, but the woman who ran the shop told her it wasn't for sale.
Just wait. In ten years, when YOU go to a Renaissance Festival, perhaps you'll be greeted by a girl wearing a dress made out of peacock feathers and glitter, sitting on a white horse with a "horn" on its head. You'll know who it is. Just do whatever she tells you to do.