Rediscovering Evelyn

Is it possible to love your child more and more each day?
When Lauren was just brought home, I was off kilter. I was struggling to find my footing as a parent of two and getting used to night nursing again. A new born that also needs my attention and care, the lack of sleep, and the potty training process that seemed to finally pick up combined to make me rather short on temper and quick to snap.
Many nights did I look back at certain events during the day and regretted on my reaction and confined to their father that I've become an awful mother. In fact, I thought it was miraculous that for how impatient I was with her, Evelyn continues to love and demand me so. Then, something even more miraculous happened. We somehow managed to find a groove. While there are still difficult days and exhausting times, all in all, dare I say it, we're managing pretty good. I no longer freak out over vacation week when both girls will be home with me, alone, for consecutive days. I find myself confidence enough on my ability to take care of and entertain them both at the same time that the prospect of being snowed in doesn't send me panicking. With the frustration threshold elevated, I find myself really, truly enjoying Evelyn as a three year old. Now that I stopped pulling my hair out over a spilled toy basket/juice cup/$25-a-small-tiny-tube lotion, many of the horrible three actions sent me laughing instead of count-to-ten-deep-breathing. Such as how she'd squirm all over the place until her chair is far from the dinning table yet keeping half her bottom on it at all times, obeying the "keep your bottom on the chair during dinner" rule. Oh, or the time when she ate cookies while I was in the shower, breaking the "no cookies until after lunch" rule. She was a terrible cookie thief. I knew what was going on when I heard the dining chair being pulled towards the cookie box. Then, there's the child herself who, while managed to wash her hands, didn't care to brush off the cookie crumbs that ringed her mouth. Of course I can't forget to mention the big throwaway. To my question of "what are you doing?", she proudly answered "I ate a cookie!"
There is how she loves to be a princess. If she could, she would be in her Snow White Halloween costume everyday. Her pretty shoes and her pretty dress make it easier to step into her little princess plays. The way she deliberately kicks off one of her sparkling slippers so she could land on the couch to await for her prince just cracks me up.
There is also how she loves her sister. Always wanting to hold her, kiss her, know what the baby is doing. I stepped away from the room the other day, leaving the two of them. Lauren, laying on her play mat on the floor, started fussing, and I heard Evelyn comforting her: "it's okay, I'm here, I'm here". And then she tried to pick the baby up and toppled over, with Lauren on top of her.
The list goes on and on. It's like I'm rediscovering Evelyn all over again, and just loving her more and more every day. It's a wonderful thing.

Evelyn and Lauren together

Evelyn loves Lauren. Lauren is always the first to receive bedtime and goodbye hugs and kisses. When I'm holding Lauren, Evelyn would ask me to sit beside her so she can see Lauren, talk to her, and touch her. Whenever I leave the room for mere seconds, Evelyn would keep an eye on Lauren. In fact, I have to warn her off from trying to rock Lauren in her swing too much, or from picking Lauren up. Lauren loves Evelyn in return. When Evelyn's at home, Lauren follows her every movement with her eyes, watching her play, observing her movements. She is fascinated by her big sister.

The other day, Evelyn was dressed in her Snow White Halloween costume (a costume that was well worth buying) and watching Snow White movie, again. She likes the story so much, and has watched the movie so many times, she remembers some of the lines. This particular afternoon, she was watching the movie while play acting out the scenes. Then came the part where Snow White dances with the Seven Dwarfs after dinner. Evelyn twirled and spun and danced with the princess on screen. Lauren watched and laughed and laughed and laughed. It was one of the most precious moments.

"True love's kiss"

How deep has the fairy tale bug bitten Evelyn?

She made a new friend, Abby, at the play area in the mall today. The two little girls ran around, chased each other, compared their baby siblings, and climbed in and out of play things. Then, I spotted Evelyn lying on the floor, apparently fake sleeping and paying no mind to her confused new friend who just could not rouse her. Abby shook Evelyn, tickled her until Evelyn was squirming away, and asked her to wake up in the persistent way that only a toddler could master, all to no avail. I knew what Evelyn was waiting for, but I reined in the urge to interfere. I wanted to see what would happen. After a minute or two, just when I was afraid that Abby is going to give up on Evelyn, I saw Evelyn mouthed three words to Abby, "true love's kiss". Right... Just what I thought. Poor Abby was even more troubled. It's time for me and Prince Lauren to step in. All it took was a slobbery kiss from Lauren and the world was righted. There goes princess Evelyn, rescued from some unknown, but definitely wicked sleep enchantment, happily engaged with a real world playmate again.

Who are you now?

Evelyn loves to pretend play these days, especially loves to re-enact her beloved princess stories.
Just the other day, I found her slightly bent over in a non-specific living room corner with a hand cupped by her mouth as if silently singing towards the floor. She then tilted her head towards the same spot as if listening for a response. "Snow White?" I ventured a guess, "are you Snow White singing into the castle well?" She looked up and nodded solemnly, and picked up a corner of her sleeping gown as she swept across the floor. I left the poor princess to clean up after breakfast. When I returned, she was perched on her hands and knees upon the pillow stack singing quietly. She then propped herself up, lifted her head, and sang the phrase "part of your world~". Ah, she is Ariel, the little mermaid, longing to become a part of the Prince's world. While the little mermaid was busy swimming across the room, I went to change Lauren's diaper, and came back to find the big sister face down on the floor. Turns out that she was Snow White again, escaped into the forest, tired and frightened, just about to be led to the Seven Dwarf's house by little woodland animals. That whole day, I felt like I was caught in a never ending Scene It game. Every time I return to Evelyn's side, I'd arrive in the middle of a story. Charming little stories. Charming, that is, until I was assigned the role of a big bad wolf or an evil queen and had to chase the heroine around the crowded house, with the baby in my arms.

"I'm mama, you're Evelyn"

Sometimes we role play. Evelyn would be the little mermaid, and I would be Flounder/King Triton/Ursula/Prince Eric - depending on which part of the story we are reenacting.
Today, she wanted to be me, and told me to be her. Sure thing. I was so ready to throw a tantrum at her to let her have a taste of her medicine. But her performances halted me in my track:
"[mumble mumble] only mama can [mumble mumble] give you a time out!"
With a finger pointed at me and her eyes opened wide to portray a stern look "[mumble mumble] I will take it away!"
"Don't touch [mumble mumble] or I will give you a time out!"
Yeah, so for the next ten minutes or so, I sat there listening to her telling me to behave, threatening to give me time outs or taking my things away.
Dear me, is that all I am to her?
What about the times I spent playing two-people duck, duck goose with her, while holding baby Lauren in my arms?
Or the times when I sat on the little stool across from you in our tiny half bath per your request to keep you company while you go potty?
I know being a parent does not equate to being a good play mate, and often times not a good friend. There is necessarily rule settings and lots of no's. I just hope that the fun times leave as strong impressions as the not so fun times.

Oh little girl...

It will be hell for me if we ever have to use the cry it out method with Lauren.
The father of the children once said to me "and you thought Evelyn was clingy..."
This little girl recognizes her mother, and would continue to cry and cry and cry when her father holds her at night.
On the nights when it's my turn to put her sister to bed and her father's turn to take care of her, she would cry persistently in his arms, no matter what he does. He'd walk her, rock her, sing to her, talk to her, all to no avail. She would cry out tears (not an easy feat for a two months old), cry herself hoarse, cry until she coughs, and finally tire herself out and cry herself to sleep. That could easily take an hour.
Upstairs, I'd be struggling to read stories with the usual embellishments and high spirits for the older one while feeling dragged down by the cries of the little one. It tears at me even though I know she's in good hands. The cries pull at me, and I have to force myself to focus only on the older one who also needs my full attention and love.
Stubborn, determined, and only two months old. Wonder what the future holds.

Toddlers and tantrums

Evelyn seldom screams. Bad tantrums that brings up headaches occurs rarely. Last week, she gave me one that is quite unforgettable.

It happened because of something really trivial. All memorable tantrums start that way, it seems. Then the situation got more and more heated as she ups her volume and refuses to listen. Oh, she told me she wants to listen many, many times. But after I repeated my instruction, she would continue to insist on going against it. So, more time outs. Except the execution of the time outs became more and more difficult. She began to scream "don't leave me alone, mommy", and cling to me like an octopus. I need to peel her of off me before I can run out of her room to leave her in it. The screams drive me nuts but the "don't leave me alone" and the desperation with which she grab on to me break my heart. I cannot stand my children feeling that they were abandoned by me. Yes, I may be too dramatic here, but it is one of my worst fears. But I digress. I was amazed by her screams, by how she does it with her whole being. As if it's from the very root of her soul. As if her life depended on it. There was no holding back. It was pure emotion, pure desire. We all want our children to behave, be reasonable and civil, and be calm when facing distressing situations. But that afternoon, standing in her room, hauling her back to her room for the nth time out by her arms, feeling exhausted by this fight, I found myself also mourning the time when she would loose this freedom to let it all out as she grow up, when the restraints will be put in place. It's a price we all pay in order to mature and make the world a livable place, I suppose.

How do you get an almost three year old to understand that...

A secret is something that you don't want to tell the person that you are keeping the secret from. If you seek out and run up to tell the person what surprise you just prepared them, it is a surprise no more. ("We got a cake!" she told her surprise-birthday-party-girl-auntie.)

There is no eating the gingerbread house before it is even assembled. And no, there is no negotiating. ("Four bites?" she pleaded with a hopeful expression.)

It is not polite to ask "what's that?" after the noises from next stall in a public restroom. Even more so, it is extremely inappropriate to bend over to check on the person in the next stall through the crack between the wall and the door.

Repeating a request over and over and over and over again would not let it happen faster, if it happens at all.

It is great to explore things and I encourage that, but it doesn't mean I won't get grossed out by certain explorating actions. (Evelyn explored her poop the other day while I was away nursing the tiny one.)

"Because I love you"

One night at bed time, Evelyn started to cry for no reason. Her father asked her why she was sad, she replied "because I love you!" It's very sweet, but after a half an hour of such crying, I realized that she's forcing the cries just so she can stay sad. I can't help but wonder: seriously, child, must you be so dramatic.

Last night, she asked me to read Snow White to her. The story, like many princess stories, began with Snow White's biological mom dying to make way for the evil step mom. And of course Evelyn has to ask "why?" I told her sometimes mommies die because they get sick or get in an accident.
"So you'll die?" she asked.
"Not for a very, very, very long time, I hope," I told her.
She was quiet for a few seconds. Then, just when I continued with the story again, she began to cry.
"Don't die! I love you! Don't die!" This time, she cried real tears, and it broke my heart.
Oh child, my biggest fear is to not be able to be there when you need me. I will try my best to stay with you forever and ever.

Memory

How much could a child remember?

Two Christmases ago, when Evelyn was nearly one, I accidentally knocked down a green candle holder when dusting and broke it. I cleaned it up, and as it was not valuable or important, it was never brought up again. A few weeks ago, for some reason, Evelyn noticed the green candle holder's red companion, and mentioned how I had knocked down the green one and shattered it. I was very surprised. She was not yet one at that time, could she really remembered it? Perhaps because it was the first time she saw glass break? I wonder what else can she recall...

Surviving the first day

It's late. I should be asleep in bed, instead, I'm replaying the day in my head over and over again, wondering if I did good enough as a parent.

Today is the first day I spent alone with my two little girls. By the end of the day, though the beds were left unmade, and the laundries are still in the drier waiting to be folded, the house was other wise miraculously intact. The girls were both fed and clean, their physical needs tended to as best I can. Lauren only had one poopy diaper that I did not get to immediately, and Evelyn only had one potty accident that occured when I was busy changing Lauren. And, I got to take a three minute shower! So all in all, it should be a pretty good day, except that I feel like I've cheated Evelyn out of a lot of mommy attention. When Lauren was awake, I was only able to lay her down for a few minutes before she demands to be picked up again. When Lauren is asleep in her crib, I'm busy taking Evelyn to the potty (or pursuading her to go), cleaning up behind her, making lunch for her, and, finally, fit in a few minutes to sit with her. I try to be a part of everything she's doing, but it seems that I'm doing so by constantly nagging her. "Pick that up", "put that down", "wash your hands... and nothing else", "eat your lunch", "go to sleep", "hurry up", "slow down", "come on over", "get out now"... it seems that I am full of commands and negative statements. There are times when she would come to me with a book, and I would try to read to her holding the book in one hand, and rock Lauren with my other arm. Then the baby would begin to cry and fuss, and I would have to stand and march. Evelyn was left with my appologies and a promise that we'd resume reading once Lauren calms down. But when I was finally able to put Lauren down, Evelyn may be off to something else, and I've missed that golden moment for some quiet cuddling. There were other times when Evelyn would ask for hugs, such as after she completed a time-out, or when she bumped her leg, and all I could give her was a half sided, one-arm hug because Lauren is taking up half of me. I try to make those hugs as full as possible, try to convey how much I love her by squeezing her tight, but I don't know if that's enough to make up for what I wasn't able to give her.

I know adding a second child to the family means a whole lot more work, I know Evelyn would not be able to get mommy fully as she used to, and I expected the challenge of making myself euqally available to both girls. But I don't think I fully understood what it entailed before Lauren was finally in my arms. I know I can only try my best. I just hope that my best is good enough, and that both girls would know, and feel, how much I love them.

It's all about bodily functions these days

Yes, I am an experienced parent with a healthy and happy (most times, when she's not busy refusing food or resisting potty training) two and an half year old. I've gone through the change, feed, burp, walk to sleep routines of taking care of a new born aplenty. But three-weeks-old Lauren is reminding me of the amazing effects a baby have on one's daily life that I've conveniently forgotten when awaiting her.
Such as the amount of laundry I need to do. One little person, and all of a sudden, our laundry has tripled due to, say, the four-shirt night during which her spit up soaked through four T-shirts of mine. Or the morning that I had to launder every piece of fabric in the bathroom because, after an "Oh my gosh did she just shoot poop that far?" incident, I found myself saying "Holly Batman! How did the poop get there?" at every turn in the bathroom.
There's also the number of wipes and diapers that we consume. I think new diapers evokes, in a baby, the urge to go. Numerous times would I be putting a fresh diaper on Lauren when all of a sudden, liquids and more surge forth. If I'm lucky, I'd have contained it within that wasted diaper. If not, here's another reason why the laundry pile keep growing. Speaking of diaper changing, I cannot help but have to mention the time when, stripped naked and poised over her bath water, she managed to pee on and on and on and on, pulling a Tom Hanks in A League of Their Own, creating a little puddle at my feet. And that is after getting half of my shirt and jeans wet. How much water can a little baby hold? Apparently a lot.
Little baby Lauren, she never seizes to amaze me. Most amazing of all is how she, like her sister, makes my heart ache with love simply by being here. She need not do much, but just gaze up with her big eyes, a little frown upon her brows, and I melt. Such is the power of a child.

Bringing Lauren here

How did I ever forget the pain of delivering a baby? How could the memory of contractions that threatens to overwhelm one's body and will, or the terrible burning sensation that promises to rip your body apart if you push any iota more become so vague and distant until it is time to do it all over again?

10/14/2009, we checked into the hospital at 8am to induce baby Lauren.
It took 3 tries for the nurses to get an IV catheter into my supposedly delicate and tiny yet useless when it comes to catheters vein, and the Pictocin drip was finally started around 10:30am.

The contractions never build up much from the Pitocin. I keep waiting for the contraction to intensify, telling my body that I could take more, just BRING IT ON ALREADY, but it never did. At 7:30pm, I was still at 4cm, 80% effaced, and +1 station, only 1cm more dilated before the drip. The doctor broke my water.

At 8:30pm, all ability to control facial muscle through the pain was lost. On the pain scale of 0 to 10, it's a 10, no question about it. If there's any pain beyond what I was feeling, I pray no one needs to feel it. The doctor and the nurse were called in to consult on medical options to ease the suffering. The anesthesiologist was in a surgery, I was told, so epidural was out. How about something to take off the edge? I was at the peak of the transitional period, but still have 2cm to go. "Would it get any worse?" I asked the doctor in a puny voice. Probably not from the contraction, she said, but pushing would be a different kind of pain. Would I want anything to help me through the delivery? Um... Yes, please. The doctor discussed with nurse on what I should be given. The nurse turned to go, and I halted everyone by uttering the magic word "pressure!" That was 8:35pm. I was ready to give birth.

8:59pm, Lauren was born. The little girl came fast and furious. For all the waiting and anticipating, it's still hard to believe that she is now finally here. It is hard to believe how such a big change in all our lives could arrive so swiftly and happen so matter-of-fact-ly. The earth of my world quaked and restructured itself, mountains moved and oceans surged, but no one outside the hospital room noticed. And now after the searing pain, I have a little sticky, bloody, and wondrous little human being so tiny and fragile in my arms finally here for us to love. The adventure of life continues.

Note: The doctor and nurses commented on how great I did, which I don't understand. Was there a different way to do it? The baby was coming, I couldn't stop it. There was no "let's all take five"; no "here Michael, it's your turn, take over"; no "I quit". I had to push, and so I did. What other options were there? Yes, I did it all naturally. But don't forget, I really didn't have a choice. Any mother would need to go through what I had gone through in order to become a mother, no? More power to the mothers!

Snow White

Nanny bought Evelyn a Snow White costume for Halloween.
Last night, she put it on and we play acted the story, oh I don't know, ten thousand times?
At one point, it went like this:

Snow White (Evelyn) directed the Evil Queen (me) on how to make the poison apple while cleaning the little dwarfs house. After that, she waited for me to come tempt her with it.

Evil Queen: Oh dear lady, I'm a poor old lady who is so thirsty. Could you please spare me some water to drink?
Snow White: Which one you want? (Pointing behind her) There is chocolate milk, juice, soda, milk, water...
Evil Queen: (a bit stunned at the choices) ... ugh.... how about some milk?
Snow White: Milk is too high (pointing at high beyond her head), I'm too little, I can't reach (showing regret on her face).
Evil Queen: ....

So, the Evil Queen got her water, and gave the apple to Snow White. She took a bite of the apple, looked around a bit dazed, then...

Snow White: I pick a spot. Oh, here.
Snow White moved to the appropriate location, carefully sat down, laid out her dress, ask for a flower to hold in front of her chest, and then slowly laid down to wait for the prince.

That, is how Evelyn's Snow White works.

Still waiting

38 weeks and still going. Still waiting. Still wondering.
Evelyn was induced at 37th week because of my high blood pressure and a mildly elevated protein level in my urine. At 37th week and a few days this time, I was sent over to the hospital for more blood work and a non-stress test because of the exact same issues. But this time, even though the 24 hour urine collection test (3rd such test I did during this pregnancy) showed that the protein level is again mildly elevated, I only received a stricter bed rest order and more "we'll keep a close eye on you" answers. We're suspended in uncertainties of what is to come, going from check up to check up. Unknowing is a hard position to be in.

Bed rest is hard. Only a few days in and I feel like my left ear is permanently mushed into my head, my hair will forever have a flat lopsided look, and my left hip would never be rid of the soreness that comes from supporting my weight hour after hour. I have no idea how other moms do it. As much as I complain, I must be honest and admit that lying down is indeed the most comfortable position for me right now. It makes my irregular contractions (Braxton-Hicks still) little less uncomfortable, and takes the pressure from the baby's weight off some.

Checking the calendar, we have but 2 more weeks to go before the due date. Dear baby #2, I'll leave it up to you. Come when you are ready. But please, don't dally!

Marrying

"I want to marry." Evelyn declared quietly after another story with a happily-ever-after ending.
"Who do you want to marry?" I asked.
She pointed at me a bit shyly but determinedly, "mommy," making me laugh.
I've heard of stories of little boys or girls saying that they want to marry their mommy or daddy, but hearing it from my own daughter still touches and trickles me tremendously.
"You'll grow up one day, fall in love with a boy, and marry him," I told her after I caught my breath.
"First mommy, then boy," was her solution.
For the rest of the afternoon, whenever I asked her to come hold my hand, be it going down stairs or walking into the parking lot, she'd run over crying "I wanna marry you!" before she takes my hand.
And I love you, too, little girl.

Falling asleep...

Many times did the little girl fall asleep between bites at meal time. Her teacher even had a story of her seemingly fine at lunch one minute but nodding and falling off her chair the next. Last month her father called me upstairs to see the child curled up on the diaper changing station with her arm outstretched for nail clipping and completely asleep. None of this, though, compared to last night.

Evelyn skipped nap yesterday. No matter how many stories I told, she would not fall asleep at nap time. But as the day wears on, her energy level began to drop quickly. Temper became shorter, and tears came easier. Seeing how tired she was, I rushed her and her father upstairs for a bath as soon as she finished the last bite of her dinner. As I was cleaning up the dishes, the little girl's father hollered from upstairs for help. I stepped into the bathroom to find the little girl sitting in her bath with her head tilted back for her father to pour water over, and her eyes closed. Hearing me, she opened her sleepy eyes for a lazy glance, closed them again, and commenced to nod off, right there, in her bath water. "Oh dear!" I exclaimed, as we hurriedly maneuvered the sleeping girl so we could finish soaping and rinsing her off. When her father lifted her out of the bath, she snuggled into his shoulder and thoroughly gave herself up to a deep sleep. The loud blast and hot air of the hair dryer could not even stir her. Apparently, this is one little girl who refuses to sleep until she could no longer hold it off, and then she surrenders to it no mater the circumstance.

A family of four

When I went to pick the little girl up on Monday, the teacher showed me the family portrait that Evelyn made. On a sheet of paper, she glued on four paper cut out figures to depict her family: one woman, one man, and two children on the side one right next to the other, as if holding hands. The teacher asked her to identify the figures, and, after much prompting because she's not voluntarily speaking to the adults yet, Evelyn told the teacher that the second children is "my sister." "Is it really a girl?" the teacher asked me. "Yes," I answered as I stood mesmerized by this simple, plain picture. The inclusion of her little sister made me incredibly proud and happy. It shows how well Evelyn understands what is to come. My growing belly is not just an at times inconvenient phenomenon, and baby sister is not just a noun in conversations or a kiss/hug on my belly. She knows that baby sister is about to come into the world, stay, and be a the newest member of our family. That she will have a new person to care and love, play and fight with. That we will go from a family of three to a family of four. Seeing how she already perceives baby sister as an integral part of our family touches me so. I have an amazing daughter.

To Dear Baby - We're almost there

Dear little baby,
How are you doing in there? I got to see you again this Monday when we had our ultrasound to check on your growth. Looks like you are doing pretty well. Despite how small I may look on the outside (trust me, I don't feel it), you are actually measuring large. Besides the numeric measurements, you also demonstrated how nicely you are readying yourself for the outside world by showing me how you practice the motion of breathing. You further showcased your athletic abilities by stretching and kicking as best as you can in the cramped space. Oh, little one, you are not the only one who is feeling squeezed and squashed. Your little bottom is situated right between my rib cage. Your heart is beating under my bellybutton, and your little head is in my pelvis. To sum it up, there is no more room for my lungs, heart, or other organs anymore.
I've long forgo grace in my movements. So what if I waddle? As long as I can get across a room, I'm happy. Bending is another motion that I can no longer perform. The feeling of having an agile body is but a distant memory. "I'm ready to give birth," I'd tell people with a hand on this solid lump that is you. But then, yesterday, the doctor found out that he's about this close to declaring that I have preeclampsia. Your sister was induced three weeks early because of a trace of it. If I have it this time, you might follow her foot step and arrive early as well. As early as say in two weeks. TWO WEEKS! All of a sudden, I realized that I'm not prepared yet! Yes, your cloths are washed, folded, and put away. And yes, your carseat is all prepped to be set into the car. But... can one really be ready to welcome a new baby? Be ready for the changes that a little new life brings into one's current life? How would you change our family dynamic? How would we continue with the house planning? How would I manage school and your sister and you? I know everything will turn out okay somehow. But I am still nervous and a little scared. Nervous, scared, but sure of one thing, and that is you will be welcomed to this world with plenty of love.

Imaginative play

Evelyn loves to pretend play. Not just with toys, but with imaginary items or characters as well. For example, she is very fond of the step mother and step sisters of Cinderella. Sometimes, she would pretend that these beloved characters are right here visiting. She would pointed to a corner of the room and tell me "look, mommy, my step mother and step sisters are over there". Right... her step mom, so... where does that place me? Never mind that. To her, step mothers are a part of fairy tales. Besides, when she assigns us roles to play I'm either the prince or the princess. I gratefully take this as an indication that she sees me as an equal play mate instead of a powerful, but very scary wicked witch. See, I am usually the one that, when she is clearly tired but wired to play, insists she leaves the fun behind and stay in bed for quiet naps. I have held her down physically disregarding her screaming protests in the past, until she tiredly falls asleep. I am also the one that would wage a battle of will with her, such as refusing to pick her up, and insisting that she walk by herself no matter how she whines; or call her on her antics and drag the child-turned-boneless-jellyfish back to her time out corner time and again until the required time was served. In those times, I see myself as a stubborn, merciless dictator. And yet, she still generously let's me play the heroic prince or the beautiful princess. How cool is that?
Once, though, the role play became a bit freaky. She was the prince and I was either Sleeping Beauty or Snow White, so I lay there as still as I can as she gave me the kiss to revive me. Only that the kiss lasted and... lasted...