Wednesday, July 27, 2011

Thank you, Disney.

I am folding laundry downstairs, half listening to the boys playing trains upstairs.  I enjoy Breckin's playdates because it allows a few extra minutes to fold a load of laundry or empty the dishwasher or prep a meal without having to pretend like I'm Darth Vader or a skeleton or a Great Wolf Lodge employee while I'm doing it.  It's exhausting having multiple personalies around here. 

Anyway, I hear a lot of "let's pretend....."   "blah, blah, blah"   "and then they jump out and scare you"  "but my guy is a monster..."  and then I hear some crashing and train explosions and Breckin says "Hey, Kellen!!  That's not cool!  Don't do that to the tracks!!  KELLEN!!  Stop!  Haven't you seen what happened to Sid?  You're going to make the toys angry!!"

And all crashing stops.  Thank you, Toy Story, for instilling the fear of God and Living Toys upon my son.  He cherishes his toys like no other child and doesn't allow anyone to anger his toys.  And then I realize I'm laughing by myself at no one else in the room.  The downstairs toys probably think I'm crazy.

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