adiva_calandia (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
adiva_calandia) wrote2007-03-22 01:58 pm
adiva_calandia) wrote2007-03-22 01:58 pm
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Accomplishment of the day: Creating a good-looking Red Riding Hood cape and hood out of a skirt, an uncut piece of cloth, and yarn. Who da designer? I da designer.
Other accomplishments of the day, though not mine: The Velveteen Rabbit popping her head out from under the blankets and pulling them up to just under her nose, of her own volition, making me squeak in OMGCUTE; the Wind-up Mouse asking if she could scream and then run when surprised; the Rag Puppy finally ACTING when asked to.
ETA: Also. One of the young'uns -- he's eleven -- has been singing La Vie Boheme for the last two days. That's about how old I was when I first heard it, and like me, he has no idea what he's singing.
'Course, I've got the whole song memorized, and I can't help singing along. To yoga, to yogurt, to rice and beans and cheese . . . Then of course, I trail off and hum, because singing To leather, to dildos in front of an eleven-year-old isn't something I want to do.
And he asks "How do you sing that part, anyway?"
"Uh. You'll have to look up the lyrics yourself." Because really? I don't want to be responsible for teaching him words like S&M or sodomy. Not my place. I'd rather show him a scene from a TV show with the word "shitty" -- I don't have to explain that one.
But it's a very odd sort of deja vu. I half want to play him "Sweet Transvestite" to complete the resemblance.
Other accomplishments of the day, though not mine: The Velveteen Rabbit popping her head out from under the blankets and pulling them up to just under her nose, of her own volition, making me squeak in OMGCUTE; the Wind-up Mouse asking if she could scream and then run when surprised; the Rag Puppy finally ACTING when asked to.
ETA: Also. One of the young'uns -- he's eleven -- has been singing La Vie Boheme for the last two days. That's about how old I was when I first heard it, and like me, he has no idea what he's singing.
'Course, I've got the whole song memorized, and I can't help singing along. To yoga, to yogurt, to rice and beans and cheese . . . Then of course, I trail off and hum, because singing To leather, to dildos in front of an eleven-year-old isn't something I want to do.
And he asks "How do you sing that part, anyway?"
"Uh. You'll have to look up the lyrics yourself." Because really? I don't want to be responsible for teaching him words like S&M or sodomy. Not my place. I'd rather show him a scene from a TV show with the word "shitty" -- I don't have to explain that one.
But it's a very odd sort of deja vu. I half want to play him "Sweet Transvestite" to complete the resemblance.