Leave it to our precious son to knock PilotHusband's ego down a notch or two.
Every year for a very long time, I have dressed up like a medieval wench and worked at the Renaissance Festival when it comes to town. It is a great source of extra income, leading up to Christmas, and it gives me a chance to hang out with my funky groovy Wiccan friends. Its like running away and joining a carnival, but all of the "Carnies" have degrees in Elizabethan Literature. Since birth, our son has watched Mommy dress like a wench, a princess, and a faerie, every weekend in October and November. Thanks to so well-played slight of hand, he believes I can turn ordinary garden rocks into polished gemstones. My son is convinced his mother is part Faerie. We even used my Faerie Magic and sprinkled powerful Faerie Dust around the yard to keep monsters away.
So, for a long time, PilotHusband has had to deal with the fact that he may fly big jets across the frozen North Atlantic, but he's no Faerie. Mythical woodland magical creatures win over Jet Jockeys every time! Come on! Mommy has a friend that's a Centaur, and a friend with a baby dragon. I hate to quote Charlie Sheen, but... "WINNING".
And now... I have just made things worse for PilotHusband. In addition to my seasonal duties as a wench/princess/faerie, I started a new job. During the week, I am now building parade floats used in College Homecoming, Thanksgiving, and Christmas parades in four states. I showed my son pictures of the floats his Mommy had built and he announced "Coolest job EVER"! It was then that PilotHusband reminded our 6 year old that he flies big planes to Paris, Madrid, and Rome. And our precious child responded, "Yeah, but are you part faerie AND work in Santa's workshop making Christmas floats? No Dad, I don't think so.". Again, I say... WINNING!
P.S. PilotHusband burst the button off of his new shorts. He blamed it on the hard water from our well, degrading the thread. After a month of laying on the couch, drinking beer and eating the child's chicken nuggets and ice cream (while watching the Military Channel), he is pushing maximum density (if you know what I mean). I agreed that it must be our hard water that caused his button to fly across the room. After all, I may be Medieval, but I'm not completely evil :)
Every year for a very long time, I have dressed up like a medieval wench and worked at the Renaissance Festival when it comes to town. It is a great source of extra income, leading up to Christmas, and it gives me a chance to hang out with my funky groovy Wiccan friends. Its like running away and joining a carnival, but all of the "Carnies" have degrees in Elizabethan Literature. Since birth, our son has watched Mommy dress like a wench, a princess, and a faerie, every weekend in October and November. Thanks to so well-played slight of hand, he believes I can turn ordinary garden rocks into polished gemstones. My son is convinced his mother is part Faerie. We even used my Faerie Magic and sprinkled powerful Faerie Dust around the yard to keep monsters away.
So, for a long time, PilotHusband has had to deal with the fact that he may fly big jets across the frozen North Atlantic, but he's no Faerie. Mythical woodland magical creatures win over Jet Jockeys every time! Come on! Mommy has a friend that's a Centaur, and a friend with a baby dragon. I hate to quote Charlie Sheen, but... "WINNING".
And now... I have just made things worse for PilotHusband. In addition to my seasonal duties as a wench/princess/faerie, I started a new job. During the week, I am now building parade floats used in College Homecoming, Thanksgiving, and Christmas parades in four states. I showed my son pictures of the floats his Mommy had built and he announced "Coolest job EVER"! It was then that PilotHusband reminded our 6 year old that he flies big planes to Paris, Madrid, and Rome. And our precious child responded, "Yeah, but are you part faerie AND work in Santa's workshop making Christmas floats? No Dad, I don't think so.". Again, I say... WINNING!
P.S. PilotHusband burst the button off of his new shorts. He blamed it on the hard water from our well, degrading the thread. After a month of laying on the couch, drinking beer and eating the child's chicken nuggets and ice cream (while watching the Military Channel), he is pushing maximum density (if you know what I mean). I agreed that it must be our hard water that caused his button to fly across the room. After all, I may be Medieval, but I'm not completely evil :)
Mardi Gras floats would really put it all over the top. Besides, Faeries have built in wings and can fly, too.
ReplyDelete