Today Belle wanted me to play with her. She has a wire toy that she likes to play with. Unfortunately, she won't play with it by herself, so I have to participate, waving the wire toy back and forth as Belle attacks the little cardboard bit that is at the end of the wire. The play session tends to get old fast for me, even faster than it does for Belle, and that's saying something.
Today when Belle asked me to play, I told her, "I would love to, but I have to go write an entry in your blog. You wouldn't want me to miss writing an entry for today because I had to play with you, now would you?"
"No," replied Belle, "But I don't think I should have to choose between the two."
"Oh really," I said, "I suppose you think I ought to be able to do both then."
"I'm going to lie down on the windowsill," Belle snipped back at me.
Then Belle went her way and I went mine, down to the computer to write this article. After I was at my computer for a moment, I heard a pitiful moaning noise coming from upstairs. I went upstairs and found Belle in a most pathetic pose on the windowsill, lying listlessly but not sleeping, as her eyes were still wide open. She let out a sad moan every few seconds. I took a picture of her for posterity, so everyone can see how Belle gets when she doesn't get her way.
"What's the big idea, Belle?" I asked her.
"Oh, nothing. I'm just resting."
"Then what's with the racket? Are you not feeling well?"
"What would you care?," she hissed back.
I could see that Belle did not appreciate my refusal to play with her. Writing an article under such conditions would not be possible.
"Fine. Let's play, Belle," I told her.
"Okay, if you really want to," Belle replied happily.
She jumped off the windowsill and ran to her wire toy, and we played for a full five minutes. Then she let me go write my article, but I had forgotten what it was I was going to write about, so I wrote this instead.