Magic, Monsters, and Mommy

When my kids woke up yesterday and discovered drink stirrers, they immediately morphed into wizards.

“Sssssss,” goes D. “You’re a frog, Mommy.”

Dutifully, I “ribbit, ribbit, ribbit,” from the pillows until he gets bored.

“Sssssss, you’re Mommy again.”

“Oh, thank goodness. I was getting hungry and didn’t want to eat flies.”

Then T gets in on the action. “Zap!” she says, brandishing her clear wand. “You’re a monster.”

“Sssssss,” D says. “Mommy.”

“No, turn her into a monster,” T insists.

“Sssssss,” D says, “you’re a monster.”

“ROAR!” Replete with a deepened voice, hands gripped like claws, and wide angry eyes, I morph into Monster Mommy.

The kids scream, T with surprise and D with some genuine fear. He hides behind his big sister and peeks out at me. After a moment, I offer them an unexpected ROAR again. D screams again and wraps his arms around his sister’s waist. T comforts him with an arm draped over his shoulder. It was a priceless, precious moment I’ll treasure as their mother, even if they did look a bit like these lemurs.

“You better turn me into a Mommy again if you want cuddles,” I warn.

“No, not yet,” says T, but D is ready. “Sssssss.” He climbs up to snuggle in bed with me while T tries to undo his work.

“Your wand doesn’t work anymore,” I tell her. “Only your brother’s does.” And then T climbs up to cuddle with me, too. Best start to the day ever.