Malt-O-Princess and Director Ben

Today we had our first accumulating snowfall of the season! It was beautiful to look out and see the world transformed into a winter wonderland. The kids, of course, wanted to go out into it. Ben got himself all bundled up, while I was bundling Brianna. I don't have a snowsuit for Brianna, yet. So, I put layer after layer on our little Princess. By the time I decided that she would probably be warm enough, she resembled the Malt-O-Meal kid. She was soooo cute in her little snow boots and winter gear.

Ben had already headed outside, and Brianna was going crazy to join him. So, when I only had my boots left to pull on, I let her out the door, and asked Ben to keep an eye on her for just a minute.

Before I had my second boot pulled all the way on, I could hear her crying. I quickly pulled it the rest of the way on, and headed out the door. Ben was explaining, "I tried to keep her from falling in the snow, but she fell anyway." Sure enough. Poor little Princess! She must have face-planted, because half of her face was covered in snow! I picked her up and dusted off the snow. She was VERY upset, but stopped crying long enough to turn back and say, "Bye, bye" to the world of snow. I do believe that she was communicating that, "Hey, I've tried playing in that cold, white stuff, and it didn't work out. . . . So, what's next on the agenda??"

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Playing with Ben is like being on stage with no script, and having a Director tell you every action to make, thought to think, and word to speak. Line by line, moment by moment. No improvisation. Don't try to think or imagine, it's all provided for you, at no extra charge!! I love my son very much, but I don't enjoy this type of play. However, no matter how many times I try to explain that I would like to be able to think of my own things to say and do, I never really make any progress. I think I need a better agent! If I HAVE to follow a script, you'd think that at least I could get it in advance!!!

For example, yesterday's play began like this:

Ben: You are watching a sport, and your favorite player is Blood Swiper.
Me: Blood Swiper??!
Ben: Yes. Now, Blood Swiper is your favorite, and you love all of his moves, so you're always cheering for him.
Me: (tentatively) Go Blood Swiper??!
Ben: Then, you get the chance to meet your favorite player.
Me: Um, Blood Swiper, where did you get your name?
Ben: Mom, in the game you really didn't ask that, OK? It's just his name, OK?

Now, you see my dilemma? Blood Swiper??? Hello? Where did that come from? OK, no more horror movies for Ben! And YOU try cheering for someone named Blood Swiper! I couldn't even shorten it: "Go B.S!" Ya, that would for sure come back to haunt me.