"Help me close my briefcase!" says Little Dog thrusting his Hot Wheels track with the carry along handle into my lap. "I have to catch a train!"
"Briefcase, huh?" I say as I try to make the closure catch.
"Hurry. The train! It's leaving."
So I close up the track and he rushes over the couch, which apparently is also a commuter train.
On his way, Big Dog grabs the track set from his hand. Much fussing follows and I, being the mother, lay down the law. "Big Dog, Little Dog was playing with that. Give it back now." Then I start to count. The case is returned to Little Dog before I hit the fateful number three, just like the book says it will be.
Now Big Dog starts, "But I need a pre-case too!"
"Ok, go find one," I say, still utterly confused by their need for business gear.
Big Dog digs out his spy kit, a Christmas gift from grandma and grandpa. "Ok, I'm ready for the train."
Soon after, Little Dog digs out his little golf clubs. "Give me one of those golf sticks!" says Big Dog. Almost immediately the boys begin to fight over the club, a birthday gift from Little Dog's party in March. Little Dog demands the golf balls, Big Dog has them.
"Where are the golf balls?" asks Mr. Dog.
"In my briefcase," says Big Dog.
And I'm left to wonder who these future executives in my living room are using as role models. All I ask is that they please, God, please, don't end up being Republicans.
Pasta ala Fridge
5 years ago