After spending the afternoon with their best friends – and their best friends’ remarkably enchanting little brother – my girls have decided that the time has come. We need to adopt a little boy. (Brown for preference.)
They’ve even picked out names.
I’m trying – to absolutely no avail – to explain just how expensive babies are. And how busy I am (not to mention tired!). Goldilocks’ response? “We’ll take care of him!”
Before I could jump in and point out that she’s far too young for that kind of responsibility, Red Riding Hood said pointedly, “That’s what she said about the bird … and it DIED!”
(Unfortunately this is true. It was an old bird, mind you. And her comedic timing and delivery were impeccable.)
I tried to distract them. Somehow, my meanderings led us to the subject of marriage. Goldilocks reiterated her frustration at the fact that more women are becoming breadwinners. (I’d have thought she’d be thrilled: feminism:1, patriarchy:0. But no.)
At this, Red Riding Hood replied emphatically, “That’s why I’m never getting married!”
Being an evil mother, I asked, “What, not even if he’s the Phantom of the Opera?” (She has a huge crush.)
Goldilocks supported me. “He’d be better: no kidnapping!”
Red Riding Hood leapt to her true love’s defence: “Actually, she went with him, you know. I would never go with a creepy guy who steps through my mirror – no matter how good he looks, or how great his voice is, or how well he dresses!”
At least she has her priorities right?