once upon a wasatumunga.

Imagination is a funny thing. We start out with tons of it, but over time chip pieces away with the knowledge and experiences we gain. I don't know how it is I'm just realizing this, but rediscovering my imagination is, to date, my favorite thing about being a mom. --Wait...there are the hugs. And make-it-better-mommeeeeeey-pleeeeeease! teary kisses. So maybe it's in the top 5. There. I can live with that.

We made the mistake a few months ago of showing Emily The Lion King. She was absolutely obsessed with the little orange box with the pictures of the lions on it, and in a weak moment, we gave in. It flipping freaked her out. Not only does the daddy lion die, but at his brother's hand. With fire in the background. And then "the not very nice lion", as he's now known in our house, orders a hit on the baby lion. Who eventually comes back to challenge "the not very nice lion" and nearly suffers the same fate. With fire in the background. And the "not very nice lion" dies. With fire in the background. Enough with the fire already.

In any case, we've been paying for it. Curbing thoughts, nightmares and 'games' of "fire and the burning and the fire", "the lions are going to eeeeeeat meeeeee!"s and the such. Awesome. I've damaged my kid forever, I've been saying to myself as my hand finds my forehead. Slap! Moreover, it's caused the early-onset of the big questions. What's death? Are you going to die? Awesome.

By no minor act of God, we've worked through it. Emily now realizes there are nice lions and not-so-nice lions. And yes, people die, but it's ok. Plus, lions are cool because they now live at the bottom of her bed and protect her from the alligators and monsters that come to, and I quote, "eat me all gooooooone!" at night. Slap.

What the bleep.

In all fairness, the alligators are kind of fun, because we get to eat Daddy, Uncle Gary and anyone else we want. And what do they taste like? Chicken. That's right. I have no idea where she got that...which is why I love my kid even more now that her imagination is catching up with her latest growth spurt.

And the monsters? They make for really great villains in stories about princesses. More specifically, the dragon-monster who lives in the forest outside Princess Emily Peanut Cinderella's castle, where she lives with Prince Ethan, King Daddy, Queen Mommy, and The Duke Bailey. [As a side note, every mom should be called a Queen at least once by their children. It's frickin awesome.]

And at least once every day, as I'm being requested to sing yet another rendition of The Grand Ole Duke Of York, followed by The Farmer In the Dell (sung to the same tune, so it sticks in my head until morning *thankyouverymuch*), I become a child again. Instead of the Farmer taking the wife, he takes the Wasatumunga. "Wasatumungaaaaa! Nononono, Mommy. It's not Wasatumunga! It's the cheyeuld!" And so it plays out. I act shocked. She corrects me. I try again. She corrects me again. We laugh hysterically and forget altogether what we were singing in the first place.

In case you were wondering, Baba is my mother in law, and Georgie is her stuffed monkey.