Here I am, trying to get work done and instead listening to my children run around the living room, Primo holding a plastic sword and Sec holding a baseball ball, yelling the following:
Primo:“Well, we meet again. Just try to throw those snakes at me, why don’t you?”
Seconda: “Wa-ha-ha-ha, I will! I will chase you with my horse!”
“Not so fast! I have the magic to make your house ride away. And also to make your horse frozen. BAM! Your horse is frozen!
“Then I will take it to the doctor!”
“BAM! The doctor is frozen!”
“Kill! Kill! I kill you!”
“It backfired on you so you’re dead!”
“Well I’m a girl and girls have magical powers of shooting eyeballs out of their fingernails and if these eyeballs hit you, you will die!”
I find it very convenient, as a writer, that the kids' play style involves narrating everything they do as if performing for an audience of the blind. Makes my job easy. Also, I wish someone had told me a long time ago that I contain eyeball-shooting powers. Would have saved me carrying that pepper spray my mom bought me back in high school.
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