Wednesday, December 28, 2005

Must be a Good Book.

My daughter was, and is, an incurable romantic. When she was tiny, she would build castles out of blocks, and envision a princess calling to a prince (not the other way around, mind you, as might be a bit more proper.) "Prince! Oh, pri-ince!"

Meg used to make her own swords, daggers and lances too. Rich showed her how to shape wood down in his workshop, and she'd work for hours sharpening some piece of wood, painting it silver, and fixing fake jewels to the hilt, which were constantly falling off and needing regluing. ("Well, you'll just have to find it again. Do I look like I'm made of jewels??"). I'd made her a purple cape with pearls and jewels attached to it, and a crown to go with it. All this occurred after we'd read her the Narnia series, and been to Vienna's armor museum. It seemed to give her the impression that a woman's place was in battle, with a bow and arrow, and a nice, lethal dagger.

Things cooled off a bit after she tried to joust with a tree, and lost.

Now she says, "I don't know what I was thinking of. Somehow I thought I could win!"


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