This connects back to this post. To sum up, the Peanut loves to hear stories starring herself as an amazing, magical, beautiful, and modest princess and her sidekick brother, the prince. They always battle a character named Witch Sasha. Witch Sasha's crimes always--al. ways.-- consist of the stealing of a dress, a tiara, or in the Pman's case, a shirt or a pair of pants. Then Sasha is tracked down and usually fooled and defeated by a plan that includes some variation of the "Look. Over there!" gambit. Over and over and over again, ad infinitum. It's enough to make you day dream about driving the car into a nice, soft telephone pole.
One day we were in the car and she asked me for the 3rd or 4th time that hour to tell her about how this bumbling and inveterate kleptomaniac witch stole her goddamn tiara or dress and I couldn't take it anymore. I whined at my daughter. I moaned, "oh Peanut, I'm so tired of that story, all Witch Sasha ever does is steal your dress and your tiara and your tiara and your dress. Can't we talk about something else?
And silence. Nothing. I would've felt a little bad if not for the relief.
Then, "Daddy, can you tell a story about Witch Sash stealing . . .? This time with flying horses!"
It's so relentless that sometimes my mind wanders. Even as I tell the Peanut one story my mind wanders into other stories, dark and horrible, and the story of Witch Sasha changes. She's no longer a low-powered, fashion poor practitioner of weak black magic. She becomes something else.
"And then, Witch Sasha pushes the needle through her skin. She pulls back the plunger and a dark plume of ichor blooms into the syringe to mix with the Witchbane before the plunger forces it back into Sasha's arm. Alight with the fire of her potion the witch attacks the children. Her eyes spin with the red black faces of a thousand tormented souls. Her breath reeks of carrion. She drives the the Prince and Princess in to the depths of the twisted, angry trees that make up Witch forest. Wolves howl and children in the neighboring village awake with tears on their cheeks."
But wait. Don't forget the flying horses. "Just as Witch Sasha is about to deliver the blow that will spell the end of the House Of Peanut, a sound like the flight of a fallen angel fills the air. The flying horses return. Foam drips from their muzzles, sweat coats their silver skin, their eyes wide and round and white in the night, their lips peeled back to show teeth curved and sharp like scimitars. They whinny a high pitched banshee scream and steam billows into the cold. Their dingy wings beat the air, buffeting the witch with the smell of heat and rotten paper and shit. Horse b.o. Their hooves tear clods from the sky. And then from the Witch herself. They land on her bloodied body and begin to feed."
Now get this: I'm thinking things like this, not quite but sort of. Thinking but absolutely not saying. Instead, I drone on in a distracted monotone"and while Princess Peanut flew in front of Sasha to distract her, Prince Pman flew in from behind and grabbed the shirt."
Then the Peanut peeps up from the back seat with this contribution. "And then Pumpkin man hits the witch in the head with a rock, and she was bleeding."
Is that my fault? Was there some kind of parent child mind meld, energy exchange happening? I don't know, but it's at least a creepy coincidence.
In the end I said, "Ohhkayee." Then I said that Prince Pumpkin was sad for hurting the witch and got off his horse and put medicine and bandaids on her head til she felt better and said, I'm so so sorry Witch Sasha, it was bad to hurt you. Please keep the shirt and I hope you can forgive me. And then they spent the day with her and they became friends with Witch Sasha.
A friendship that took a turn the next day when she stole the Pman's pants. Ungrateful Witch.
And the winner of the Beso gift card, chosen at random, is Bobbi. Bobbi please shoot me an email and I will put you in touch with the person who will fix you up with the gift card. Congrats and thanks for playing!