Really, until you've experienced King Peter the Boy and her unicorn obsession up close and personal, then you can't really understand the scope of her devotion. But I'll try and explain.
Her first exposure to unicorns was when, many months ago, we showed the kids one of our favorite movies, The Last Unicorn (based on one of our all-time favorite books by Peter S. Beagle), and C promptly fell in love. For awhile afterward she would demand that her daddy sing her the title song from the movie, burst into tears (tears of joy and longing), and then, when he finished singing, sob out, "Sing it again, Daddy! Sing it again!" Now she begs to watch either The Last Unicorn or The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe at all times; in the case of the latter, when Peter enters any scene riding that white unicorn, she squeals loudly and quite literally shakes and wiggles with glee.
Shortly after seeing The Last Unicorn for the first time, she started bursting into tears because she was only a girl and couldn't ever be a unicorn in real life. You guys, it's really hard, I know. In an effort to quell the pain of the thwarted desires of her heart, she slowly and quietly started amassing an army of unicorns. The gathering of unicorns was so slow and quiet, in fact, that we hardly noticed until we woke up one day and she had nine separate toy unicorns. This does not include unicorn stickers, cards, plates, cups, or backpacks; no, for now we are just considering her pack of lovies, both of the plush and hard plastic variety, which sleep with her, eat with her, bathe with her (or, in the case of the plushies, wait patiently by the bathroom door), and just generally trickle into every little crack and corner of our lives.
We are all used to moving unicorns around in order to, say, sit down. Or sleep. Or fix dinner.
They are EVERYWHERE.
Meet the herd, minus a few members out on secret reconnaissance for their beloved King:
Her birthday was a good time for the unicorn population around here. A few individuals don't even have proper names yet and must content themselves with handles such as "King Peter Junior" or "Baby Unicorn." (Raechel well remembers when Unicornio, second from left in the above photo and founding member of the Case Unicorn Herd, once entertained delusions of grandeur with the title "Unicornio Water Draining Luke.")
Now, when I was my daughter's age, I also went through a unicorn stage. It gradually segued into a raging love for horses, which burns passionately even to this day. So I have reason to believe that unicorns may just be her gateway drug before she embraces the harder equine addictions.
Case in point: I present honorary members of the herd, Baby Foal and Black Darkness.
I hope I have adequately communicated just what life is like around here. We eschew all things pink, princess, or Barbie, but bring a unicorn within 50 feet of my daughter?
Well. If you choose that course of action, may God have mercy on your soul.
1 comment:
I want C to be charged with the naming of all of my future children.
Okay, not really.
But "Unicornio Water Draining Luke" was no joke. That was serious business. Don't laugh or crack a smile when you address him or refer to him/her, because that was very legitimately his/her well-thought-out name.
C has a special place in my heart for sure.
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