Winter’s around the corner. We brought the winter coats and accessories up from the basement (a most depressing exercise, if you ask me) so that we’re not scrambling to find warm outerwear come the first cold day of the season.
We sifted through a couple of garbage bags, revealing several lost gloves (mostly mine) and lots of mittens and hats belonging to the girls. Sophie had a field day. As you can see from the photo, she was extremely amused by the hats and scarves and gloves, and was running around the house last night in glee.
Part of her happiness was due to the fact that Chloe agreed to play the part of Sophie’s dog, obligingly getting on all fours, barking and drinking water out of a bowl. Sophie LOVED that (and if she were older and able to understand the symbolism of having her older sister play the part of a subservient animal, she would have LOVED it even more) and Chloe, for once, didn’t mind doing what her sister wanted her to do.
The role-playing lasted through this morning, when I heard some more barking coming from the play tent set up in the living room.
But the best part of the day came when Sophie asked Chloe to “make real.” The irony of this request is one for the ages. When Chloe was about three years old, my mom entertained Chloe on a regular basis by providing voices to Chloe’s dolls and stuffed animals. Chloe couldn’t get enough of this, and would beg my husband and me to “make real” too. Her Papa consistently refused to fall into the trap, knowing that if he did it once, he’d have to do it all the time. I, on the other hand, was (and still am) a sucker. I agreed to do it a couple of times, and all I remember from that time was having to “make real” on a daily basis to avoid Chloe’s temper tantrums. For several months we were tortured with requests to “make real.” It was a nightmare.
Anyway, Sophie recently discovered the joys of “making real.” Though not as addicted as Chloe, she asked Chloe to do it earlier today. And when Chloe finished, Sophie wanted more. And when Chloe refused to continue, Sophie pitched a fit. Chloe was not amused. Needless to say, her father and I were not particularly sympathetic to our oldest daughter’s plight. In fact, we couldn’t stop laughing. What goes around comes around, my dear Chloe. Ha. Ha. Ha.