So I logged on to type up this here post, and… went straight to the GoDaddy screen. Wha? Turns out my domain expired? Some kind of confusion between the 13th and the 18th? I get it. 3s and 8s look alike. I promised my IT guy I wouldn’t fire him JUST yet, as long as he promised that this would never happen again, and also bring me home some of those yummy yogurt-covered pretzels while you’re at it.
ANYWAY. Back to the reason we’re really all here today:
COME PLAY IN MY WORLD! I SEE YOU! KILL THE COWS! FOLLOW ME TO MY HOUSE! NO NOT THAT WAY! KILL THAT SHEEP! GAHHHHH WHERE YOU GOING COME BAAAAACK!!!!
My God the shouting. The angst. The shouting. The ordering of what to do on an iPad that you are not even using.
Rachel likes to build elaborate houses with winding staircases and glowstone pathways. Claire likes to hoard a bunch of TNT and watch it explode. They both delight in digging large pits, spawning a bunch of cows and sheep in them, and then killing them off one by one with arrows. Nothing weird about that.
Personal space? I KNOW NOT OF WHICH YOU SPEAK, GOOD SIR.
When they play together here at home, they sync both iPads into Rachel’s world. That world has a name, and that name, until yesterday, was BIG JUGS, because that is an appropriate name for the 4-6-year-old set, right? I’m 99.9% sure it was thought up by the guy who forgot that his kids can actually read.
So now there’s, “Come into my world! It’s called BIG JUGS!”
And “Isn’t BIG JUGS fun?”
And “I love BIG JUGS.”
To which Christian replies, “Me too, kid. Me too.”
P.S. One night after they went to bed, Christian handed me an iPad and ordered me to play Minecraft. And I was like, Whatever. I don’t need that dumb game. I have work to do. And then like an hour later I was all DAMMIT MINECRAFT! WHY YOU SO FUN?
P.P.S. My version of fun is building a brick house with a cool stone fireplace and some sweet under-window bookshelves. In case any of you were wondering how we keep the magic alive up in here.