To, once again, The Reigning Queen of Pink, Grand Duchess of Fluff, and High Protector of Barbies, who (as recently noted) is today seven years old. She likes this quite a bit, either because it makes her “older” and therefor more likely to be allowed to do things her older siblings are, or because 7 is a prime number and just seems more “pink” than 6 did. Either way, the mind of the RQP has changed again – the rulers can be kind, it turns out – the birthday decree has been changed to “The Diner.”
Good kid. Daddy likes the diner. SOBUMD, taking one for the team, said something about taking them all to the ChuckyRat for lunch, so everybody wins!
Without further ado, Happy Birthday to the The Reigning Queen of Pink, Grand Duchess of Fluff, and High Protector of Barbies!
… to change their minds, especially when they are almost 7 years old, and certainly when they are The Reigning Queen of Pink, Grand Duchess of Fluff, and High Protector of Barbies. So it should have come as no surprise to me that the impending septemarian announced, a brief moment ago, that she has decided that she no longer wants to go to Chuck E. Cheese’s for her birthday, which is 3 days from today. [Note that the relief sweeping through me at hearing this is akin to that of a man facing down a hungry tiger, finding that it's animatronic.]
Instead, she’s decided we should go to New York City. That these two things are dissimilar does not enter into her decisionmaking process – neither of them are “here, in the house” and so they are therefore equivalent in her mind.
Hear that? That’s the sound of the relief sweeping back out, as the man realizes that the tiger in front of him may be fake, but the one creeping up behind him isn’t.
Heck. It may be the ChuckyMouse after all, where a kid can be a kid, a mouse can serve a beer, and a man can be big and ugly. I mean, after all….