I played spaceship and sasquatch with the boychickles tonight -- my daily dose of child directed play. We hid in an igloo and waited for sasquash to come. We made hot chocolate and roasted marshamallows. (spaceship dies fairly quickly. take off and then we might hit the sun. we're going to crash.) The Sasquatch game appears to be more sustainable, probably because it morphs into chase most of the time. Today our play was fairly sendentary. I didn't even have to be sasquatch (what a relief, I'm tired today).
We all hid in our ice cave, the seasons changed fast, it melted and became spring and summer, then we were vulnerable again. But then it was winter and we were safe.
I said, Maybe sasquatch is dumb. Can we trick him into thinking we're not here? Elliot would have none of that. No. He's very smart, he'll know we're here. Maybe he's hungry, can we offer him some food? Maybe he'll like some cake. He only likes blood. He only likes antelopes and kids. EEEEEKKKKKK. He's coming. He's getting us!!!! The anxiety in our play, always near death has to happen over and over again -- lava monster, falling over the cliff, the sun melting out eyes, the golem, orangutan operation -- but often there is no solution, no superhero, does he feel helpless? How common is that? Be still, take it, this will pass. Elliot said, Shh, it's very dangerous.
Danny and my brother consolidated all the cable wires under the house this afternoon, braving a bee hive that colonized right in the center section of our foundation. Michael was stung, but he's not allergic. Danny crawled out immediately. Oh shit. Mike get out of there. As we washed out the wound and removed the stinger Michael reminded me of the last time I was stung. A derranged yellow jacket planted itself on our water slide and just as I plopped into the water it got my leg. I had to go to the hospital because I was approaching anaphylactic shock, my whole leg and foot were grostesquely swollen. I must have been 15 or 16.