Natalie scuttled off to the bathroom. Moments later, I heard her chatting it up. The child can make dolls of anything: hairclips, tubes of toothpaste, toothbrushes, hairbrushes, her fingers. Maybe she was making a family of toiletries. And then I thought that perhaps Liza, who has no sense of personal space whatsoever
might have nosed her way into the bathroom to stare, just stare, at Natalie. It's happened before.
I was just about to investigate when I heard Natalie say, "Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair." And then I heard the thump-thump-thump-thump of the toilet-paper roll unraveling and unraveling and unraveling.
Little girl had imagined 70 inches of toilet paper as 70 feet of Rapunzel's magical golden tresses. Love me some imagination.
I know some physics-minded readers who might like this: Phary Tale Physics.
omniscient mama
swooped off my feet
and down it goes
darn it, newton
I make things
