Days of terrible black Bora are forcing us to stay locked inside our safe and warm house. We all love to be homebodies in this family, no big deal. I should be out there shooting at the pier, I've been wanting to take pics of this infame wind for years now. I still miss that courage.
I prefer remaining indoor in the comfort of our cozy apartment, eating panettone, watching old movies and enjoying our Christmas decorations. Life is good!
On Monday we had Ali's best friend (or whom is her temporary best peer) over for the day, since her mother had to take her younger kid to a hospital visit. She asked me why we don't have a TV in the kitchen and had problems accepting our point of view.
"So what do you do?," she fired.
"We eat, darling!" was my serene reply.
"And we talk. Don't you?", continued Miss Alice at my place, chewing another bite of the pasta cooked in her friend's honour, since zuchini and tuna are this little different girl's favorites. A concession that I had to negotiate with my baby before.
"Hum, eating is boring, I need a TV on. Can't you put a TV on?"
"Why don't we tell tales instead?," I suggested.
"Yeah, a story!" Alice encouraged. "Actually I could tell one, can I , Mom?" continued my little girl, her eyes shining with excitement.
"All right, you go first then," I agreed, trying to ignore Gabry's despair.
And so Alice told her friend the story of the Afghan girl whose nose and ears were cut off by her abusive husband, and who got a new face in America. To keep up with martyrdom, I told the story of Saint Lucy, the woman who was denounced as a Christian to the governor of Syracuse, Sicily, during Christian prosecution, because she refused to marry him as she had consecrated her virginity to God, and whose eyes were took out with a fork.
When it was Gabri's turn, she didn't know what to tell but still she was able to put up a story of her own, a mix between the two tortures. I encouraged them to tell a story they both knew, to distract them, but it only made them argue. There were some passages that were controversial and each of them thought her version was the best.
"All right, then, I got both of your points, girls, no need to fight," I interrupted them, trying to calm them down. "I don't care about details, I want to know if you got the message of the story right. What was the final message?"
"That we all have to love each other at Christmas, no matter if we don't have gifts or food or trees or presepe!" screamed Alice near an emotional breakdown, after her version of the story was inquired twice.
"Very good! Now you, Gabry. What did you understand?"
"I don't know. Can I go and play with Alice's piano now?"
"Ehm! Of course you can ..." I answered, trying not to feel that dismissed. She's only a 6 year-old after all, isn't she?
About lots of games and homeworks later, she came to the sitting room at snack time and inquired about our Christmas decorations.
"It's definitely too early to put them up. I don't like them!"
Alice was too busy devouring her sandwich to even bother answering.
That's okay, kids are smarter and more opinionated than how we were at their age. I had problems in taking her back home later at night, though, as she didn't want to leave a house she liked and decorations she adored. Again, nothing personal. It's the age factor, right? :)))