As you can see, we had a pink "battlefield" this day because I wanted to play on the coffee table instead of on the floor (just this one time, okay?). That was the first thing that upset "himself."
Just a few of the things that didn't seem quite right to me were:
1. Not every participant (okay,"fighter") were of the same size or scale.
2. The era was not historically correct, and that drove me crazy. Good grief, we had cowboys, Indians ('er native Americans), WWII soldiers, Revolutionary Soldiers, Disney characters and for PETE'S sake, even a Conquistidor or two! What's up with that?
Obviously the stress got to me because after awhile, I started turning a few boys into girls and they became boyfriend and girlfriend and smooched and I wanted to fix their hair. Well, THAT was the final straw. As you can see, the young Master had a snoot full of me too, and killed everyone off.
I tried to tell him that we should've gotten out the play doh or crayons, the Candy Land game or the tent.
I bet he'll remember for next time too. I can't even make "good gun sounds like Papa does."
Oh yes, and to add insult to my injury, when I picked him up that day I told him how happy I was to see him, and that I love him sooooooooo much. He said "I love you too, but don't forget that I still love Papa a little bit more." Nope, once wasn't enough. He reminded me 3 other times during the weekend.
I used to be his favorite, his one and only, his object of affection. Before he could even talk he would call for me and hold out his arms in my direction and he would say "ah Mi-mi, ah Mi-mi!" ("I want Mimi, I want Mimi!") until the offending holder passed him on to me.He even used to say "Mimi, let's married!" and smooch me up. I think he remembers that one, but he emphatically denies even the possibility that he could have ever uttered such words.
What in the world has Kindergarten done to my baby? Ah, for the good old days.