yesterday morning, ms A was roaring her discontent at something or other, and was sent to her room to calm down (which usually happens after the door is shut, and once she has screamed at the top of her lungs in completely incoherent language exactly what she thinks of us), and came out, miraculously transformed in both appearance and demeanour, butt nekkid except for a pair of purple fairly wings strapped to her back, smiling beatifically (mercurial should be her middle name) running madly through the house, pausing every now and then to do a sort of ballet-like leap, yelling 'fie fie fie' (fly fly fly) . . . . she ran from one room to the other for what seemed to be an hour, while we wept at the kitchen table.
thomas, sensible dog, hid UNDER the table with his remaining eye hidden in his paws. that dog is a SURVIVOR.
after a day of swimming lessons and mad game-playing with her toys, she went to bed - roaring again (she had removed her pyjama pants, perched on the edge of the couch, announced that she was 'doing poo's' with all the appropriate noises - pretending, i hasten to add - and then donned a satin doll's pillowcase as her 'new pants', refusing to put her pyjama pants back on. i, evil slayer of all things imaginary, had made her put the pj pants back on, and she went and hopped into our bed loudly protesting) . . . a few minutes later (after going in once to rescue his wallet at she strewed its contents across our bed), andrew went to check on her, and came out - beside himself - waving katie and i in the door.
she was nowhere in sight, her pjs were perched neatly on my pillow, and a small wriggling amelia shaped lump was burrowing under the top sheet, with hands and feet making all sorts of experimental shapes as she did so.
we didn't disturb her, and a few minutes later she was lying sedately asleep and in all innocence on her father's pillow, hands crossed at her chest like a good girl, with the pj's still abandoned next to her.
i transferred her a few minutes later, first into her pjs and then her own bed, giving her her toy st bernard in its red cross rescue bag, which was grabbed and embraced fiercely even though she stayed asleep for the entire time.
she IS fun. MAD with it. but fun.