bad guy food

John, David, and Rose made curried chicken and snickerdoodles today. Then Rose decided she wanted to cook bad guy food. I was her assistant.

Mommy, can you go pick me some flowers and poison berries?
Mommy, can you get down the flour and food coloring?
Mommy, you pick out the spices and I’ll measure them.

She had her mise en place all ready—measuring cup with water, teaspoon, knife, cloth to make sure nothing spilled.

For a while it looked pretty, what with the flowers floating on top. And it smelled good—curry, cinnamon, whole cloves. She decided to cook it out in the sun, and then, before bedtime, she cleaned it up.

ponyville

It’s garish. It’s plastic. It’s a pink and purple tree house where pink and purple ponies sleep in beds, take baths in bathtubs, and drink from tiny cups at the table. Even though Rose’s birthday invitation send no gifts, this one slipped through, and until yesterday, it sat on a high shelf unassailable by David.

Then, in a bid to distract David from the telephone, Rose let him play with it. Ooh, baby, is he having fun.

I don’t know if it’s ponyville itself or the joy of playing with one of Rose’s sacred toys, but David cannot get enough of turning the light on and off, cramming the mail into the mailbox, cramming both ponies in the upside down bed. Of course, I am required to lie on the floor and play too. I spend most of my time making sure he is not eating or losing the choking hazards.

There is no question that David likes basketball, trains, and blocks. He also loves kissing plastic ponies.