Yesterday, the girls were playing house. Julia was the mom, Emily; Lucy was the dad, Brandon; and Phoebe was the baby, Marigold. As Dave and I listened to them go on, I grew a little concerned. The mom was really mean and intense. And the dad was completely dense and ineffectual.
Me: “Do you hear them? That’s not supposed to be us, is it?”
Dave: “Nah. No. We’d never name our kid Marigold.”
Julia (as Emily, from the next room): “Marigold, sweetheart? MARIGOLD! MARI-GOLD! Ugh, she just won’t listen. Get off the coffee table, Marigold! Okay Brandon, I need to go teach my class. Keep an eye on Marigold. I’ll be back. Oh, and I think she needs a new diaper.”
Dave: “On second thought…the dirty diaper drop off is one of your maneuvers.”
Julia (breezing by, as Emily): “Mom, I’m heading out. Brandon has Marigold, but will you keep an eye on him? I’m not sure he has the responsibility to take care of her on his own.”
Lucy (as Brandon, from the other room): “But where are the diapers?”
Me: “Okay, maybe it is us.”