Thursday, January 26, 2012

It's Oz day so we're bunkering on down

Not for us entering public space and having to experience poorly-spelled patriotic messaging scribed on cardboard box flaps. Flaps that are then flapped and waved at passing cars by novelty-wig wearing, temporary flag-tattoos emblazoned on each cheek, half-cut bogans.

So we're staying in, just us, the Indomitable Trio. Later a BBQ of assorted meat thrust onto skewers and perhaps slices of Halloumi fried on the BBQ plate. With Paul Newman's South-Wester sauce for me as the saucy accompaniment. 

Delish!

I discovered a capability increase in theBoy. He can be now asked to go get me a Diet Coke from the fridge. Hooray! So he did that and it came to me and it was awesome.

Then ... then we were doing a session of Storyverse, with various characters having adventures centered, as irony would have it, around a picnic (1). There were robot-empowered picnic baskets—with little legs Pratchett-style for Lamby Lamby Forty and Forty's basket, and two-splayed claw feet and digitigrade legs for theBoy's—a large ocean-dwelling tentacle-packing slime monster that attacked them on the way to the picnic site, and a rabbit that got fed by a hastily assembled automatic carrot dispensing machine and its guts swelled to the size of a bus and it exploded half-digested carrots across a blast radius of several hundred feet. 

As the rabbit exploded I asked theBoy what he was doing. He said he was headed for the bus and driving away. After he escaped—having to dodge two tentacle slap strikes from the half-burned away slime monster they'd bested earlier on the way to the picnic, theBoy having previously thrown his ammo-depleted cannon at it and then triggering a self-destruct under it to explode it—I told him he'd left his friends behind and they had in fact been covered in the half-digested carrot from the exploded rabbit. 

'No!' shouted theBoy. 'They came with me!'

'But you didn't say that!' I protested. 'So they got covered!'

'NO!' he shouted. 'That didn't happen!'

Then to ensure compliance of a rewind to the story he came and took my half-drunk Diet Coke away.

So ... theBoy can get'uth... and theBoy can take'th away.


UPDATE: It's later. The rest of the trio are abed. I am up watching The Colbert Report. Earlier theWife and I were talking about Oz day. We decided that for us it really means little more than a kind of bonus day. And because it's a single day then it likely means the next day is a work day and thus it feels like a Sunday. An extra Sunday. I don't mind Sundays. Sunday's a fun day. Oh I'm not especially identifying it as my most-fun day of all the days of the week or anything. But, being a day of not-work it is, therefore a day of more fun than actual work would likely be.

Do you see? Anyway, Oz day is, therefore to us now known as an extra Sunday. Oh and I'm not telling tales out of school to say that it was just such a pleasure to spend the day with those that make me worth being me.

(1) Ironic since we avoided going out for a picnic ourselves.

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