Kaya has recently learned the 3 Little Pigs story at daycare. So together we tell it:
“Little pig, little pig, let me in!”
“Not by the hair of my chinny chin chin!”
“Then I’ll HUFF, and I’ll PUFF, and I’ll blow your house down!”
Only I huff and puff too aggressively. “No mommy, it’s a happy wolf!” Because Kaya does not like mad or sad. Monsters, giants and aliens are all insisted to be happy. Not scary. Ever. I try to talk to her about the wolf’s feelings but she shuts me down. “I like happy wolfs.” I do not. I think happy wolves are lame. So I compromise.
“Or how about the wolf is tired!” Kaya looks at me unsure.
“Yes, the wolf just went for a run. Mommy huffs and puffs while running. The pigs have nothing to worry about see? Wolf is too tired to blow down a house!”
“Like mommy is too tired to play with me?”
Oh crap, compromise did not go exactly as planned.
Speaking of huffing and puffing, I’d like, for a moment, to take some time to tell you about my bastard brother. I call him to ask if he’d like to do a 9km trail run with me as it’s near his house.
“Yah sure. I just started running again. It’s been ages. Went out this morning.”
“Oh cool. I’m headed out now. Today is run 3 minutes, walk 2 minutes 10 times.”
“Oh yah, I can’t do that. I have this Nike gidget gadget blah-blah that records my time and distance. I set it for a 10km run. When it tells you 2km, 3km, etc it’s a bit discouraging as it feels long—”
“Hold up. You ran 10km this morning?”
“Just like that? 10km? You ran the whole thing?”
Which is when I should have hung up on him. But I’m too good of a sister for that. Besides, when we do run it, he’ll be able to cross the finish line, drive to the store, come back, chill some beer and hand me a glass in a frosted mug by the time I finish. I’ll huff and I’ll puff and I’ll swig that beer down. That works too.