“Once upon a pasta noodle…..”

“Wait a minute, wait a minute, surely it should be once upon a time, not once upon a pasta noodle, Rosa dear, who told you to write that?”

“Nobody daddy. But once upon a time doesn’t make sense.”

“And once upon a pasta noodle does?”

“Exactly daddy! If once upon a time doesn’t make sense, then I’d rather write once upon a pasta noodle.” George shook his head and laid back in his chair.

George had come home from another exhausting day at work and was pleased to be greeted by Rosa in her normal fashion, while Sybil stood in the kitchen doorway hoping that that was the day when George would greet her first. But it wasn’t to be. Once George had put down his briefcase and hugged his daughter as hard as his wings would allow, he walked over to Sybil and gave her a peck on her cheek. He saw the look on Sybil’s face and decided she had been neglected too long and opened his wings to grab his wife. Sybil took a step backwards and said, “I don’t like being a leftover.”

George smiled and gulped. “The problem darling,” he began trying to get on her right side, “is that we have an adorable seven year old daughter, so it’s not just my fault.”

“Ha!” scoffed Sybil, “are you trying to blame me for giving birth to an adorable 7 year old daughter?”

“No not blaming, but I’m giving you my reason.”

“What about Julia you never did that with her or Timmy for that matter?”

“Well,” responded George thinking as he began his sentence. “Julia if you remember, never wanted to be hugged and was always so formal.”

“True, but what about Timmy?”

George smiled broadly, “Timmy was mummy’s little boy and still is. He’s too masculine to be hugged by his father. But if you would like I’ll start hugging them as well.”

Julia who was busy in the kitchen making dinner popped her head out of the door, “hi dad it’s ok. A kiss on the cheek would be fine. You don’t have to hug me. I don’t like being hugged.”

“Where’s Timmy?” asked George after giving Julia a thumbs up.

“In his room doing his homework.”

“And there we have it!” responded a delighted George. “Now let me see, Julia what are you making for dinner?”

He was about to walk into the kitchen when he heard Rosa call him frantically. Yes of course, George stopped in his tracks. He turned and faced Rosa who was holding a piece of paper in her right wing while Sybil rolled her eyes and asked Julia if she needed help.

“What is it Rosa dear?” he asked.

“I wrote a story for you.”

“You wrote a story for me?” repeated George his face glowing. “Can I read it, is it legible?”

“What does that mean?”

“It’s ok maybe that can be a word of the day for you sometime.”

“But do you want to read it to me?”

“Yes please daddy. I wrote a fairy story all for you.”

George turned to address his wife who was still standing in the kitchen doorway after Julia had shooed her out. “Have you heard this story?” he asked. No, Sybil hadn’t heard the story. In fact, Sybil didn’t know Rosa had written a story. “Who helped you?” asked George as he walked back to grab his wife’s wing and dragged her into the living room where they plopped down on the deep lush feather chairs.

“Elizabeth told me what to write.”

“I see, well let’s hear it.” And that was when Rosa began to read it. After the back and forth about the opening sentence and knowing he wasn’t going to get anywhere, he asked Rosa to continue.

And so she did, “once upon a pasta noodle,” George smiled, Sybil rolled her eyes, “there was a pretty princess who lived in a castle. She lived with a bad king. That’s all I have written so far.”

“Well, I must say you did a great job.”

“Except for the pasta noodle part,” added Sybil unable to see the humour and creativity in her daughter.

“When are you going to finish it?”

“When Timmy lets me play with his Legos.”

“Why do need to play with his Legos?”

“To finish writing the story. That’s what all great writers do daddy. They visit the places they are writing about.”

“Oh I see. And what did you want to do with Timmy’s Legos?”

“Build a castle.”

“And why don’t you let Timmy build the castle for you?”

At that moment, obviously hearing the conversation in his room, Timmy came into the living room and briefly said hello to his father before giving his side of the story.

“Dad, she wants to paint the Legos pink and purple.” George was amused. It was going to be one of those evenings filled with Rosa logic.

“Why pink and purple Rosa dear.”

“Because that’s what princesses lives in.”

“But why not in a white and blue castle.”

“Because that’s for boys. Princesses live in girl castles.”

“In which case I can get you a Lego set all of your own, if they make them in that colour. But those Legos belong to Timmy so you can’t paint them.”

“But, but dad, Timmy said he’s too old to play with toys when I told him he could play with my Barbie, and so if he’s too old to play with my Barbie, he’s too old to play with Legos and he should give them to me.”

George had to step in and referee this argument before it got out of hand, “wait a minute Rosa, Timmy doesn’t play with Legos he creates things.”

“But that’s the same as playing daddy.”

George shook his head. “No, Timmy doesn’t want to play with your dolls,” and George emphasised the word play, “but I’m sure he will let you build a castle with his Legos as long as you don’t paint them.”

“But dad, that’s not right.”

“What’s not right?”

“Princesses don’t live in blue and white castles. They live in pink and purple castles.”

“How do you know that?”

“I saw it on Disney. The Sleeping Beauty lived in a pink and purple castle.”

Now George was at a definite disadvantage because he had never seen Sleeping Beauty. He looked at Sybil, who shrugged her shoulders as did Timmy. Julia, who was still in the kitchen, wasn’t going to get involved. George wasn’t sure what to do. He was lost for words, but that was not lost on Rosa. She smiled evilly. She knew she had the upper hand and she wasn’t going to let go. George sighed. He needed a way out other than buying a Lego set just for Rosa because he knew that’s what she wanted him to do. She would never play with it after painting the bricks. “Let me think about it Rosa.”

“Well don’t take too long daddy, because I may not be able to finish the story for you without that castle.”

“Dinner is ready!” shouted Julia.

“Thank goodness,” replied George under his breath.

“What are we having?” asked Rosa.

“Roast lamb and Brussel sprouts!” shouted Julia, and Rosa collapsed.

“Oh no,” she moaned, we are going to eat someone’s pet!”