The other night, after I quickly checked my email on the kitchen computer, I trudged over to the fridge. As I was staring into the nearly empty freezer hoping that dinner would magically appear, I heard a scuffle break out. For the past couple of weeks, the Princess and the Pirate have been hovering near the computer like harpies circling for food. They've been constantly arguing over who should have access to the the computer, and they've filed numerous complaints with the Court of Mommy.
The Pirate has recently abandoned his quest to locate the most asinine online stunt videos imaginable (like people flinging themselves off roofs and souping up cars to fly them off ramps). Now he's obsessed with a purportedly educational online video game that he maintains will prepare him to be an architect. In presenting her case for computer access, the Princess has countered that if she doesn't visit her Webkinz to dress them up for fashion shows, they might die from loneliness. Do any of us want Webkinz blood on our hands? Not to mention that the Princess might decide to be a fashion designer someday, so Webkinz World is providing her with valuable training. She also needs to visit the PBS Kids' website, which is educational too; if she doesn't get her quality time with Ruff Ruffman, her brain might just atrophy to the point where she can no longer function.
As I stood at the fridge, the shouting escalated and I knew that blows were being exchanged. Instead of rushing in to mediate the dispute, I decided to take a different approach. Dropping the frozen broccoli that I had just picked up, I dashed over to the computer and started enthusiastically screaming: "Fight! Fight! Fight!" The Princess and the Pirate dropped their arms and looked up at me like I was crazy. "Hey," I said gleefully, "some people pay a lot of money for pay-per-view fights. I get a ringside seat to Godzilla v. Mothra for free!" Sensing that they were the butt of my joke, the Princess and the Pirate slunk away to play with their Polly Pockets and Legos. I returned to the fridge and continue to root about for food, basking in the glorious victory of sarcasm over stupidity.
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