The pterodactyl in my life does not look like this. But this is a start.
The pterodactyl in my life is quite small, about the size of a hand (although that is a coincidence of course) and very nippy. It just bobs up when one does not expect it. Mostly it bobs up when Himself does not expect it. Sometimes when we are lying in the dark I warn Himself that I can sense a pterodactyl in the vicinity.
I do this to help him and why he feels it necessary to reach out and grab my hands is a mystery to me. The pterodactyl , like me , is rather fond of Himself and seeks him out to give him playful little pecks.
It makes me smile. It is very silly indeed.
It is also very, very important. We spend a lot of time in our grown up garb. When I dress for work in the morning I look in the mirror and wonder if anyone will guess what I really am. I ask myself, “Do I look like a grown up?” I do look like a grown up and my costume takes hold and off I trot to work where I act like a grown up, almost all day.
It is good to be a grown up. We should all do it sometime but it does have its disadvantages.
So I have decided to be a grown up when I need to be.
My pterodactyl stays at home when I work. My temper stays in check when I drive. I do all the things that we all do when I am out of the house. I will not insult you by listing them.
But at home, with Himself, I can play again. I can be just as silly as I like.
The only problem is that when I act in this slightly less mature manner it does tend to have certain repercussions.
What about you? How do you find time to play? How do you remind yourself not to be a grown up all the time?
Poppy, so your hands are uncontrollable Pterodactyls, which means that in about a hundred million years, give or take a hundred thousand or so, they will turn into Birds of Paradise, nothing less.
Do you think Himself can wait that long.
We all have to let our inner child out to play occasionally, otherwise we become boring old sticks.
It's a good thing that your Pterodactyls like Himself, according to the experts thay can give a nasty bite.
Warm hugs,
Paul.
I think that when I blog, I'm letting my inner child out to play. I don't have to be grown up on my blog, unless I choose to be. So that's my playground.
Hugs,
Hermione
Wow, Paul, my hands as birds of paradise? They have beaks too, whoever would have thought?
Himself is a very patient man and I am certain he can wait ages for another winged and beaked creature to enter his life.
Here is to never being boring old sticks.
Hermione, I think you are right and I never saw it like that before. This is where I play too.
Ha! I laugh at your pterodactyls!
(I do. Really.)
I have seen you laugh. There is a flash of fear in your eyes. It is the laugh of the condemned.
It is the laugh of the highly amused, and that flash you see is merely the light catching my bright blue eyes.
Nope.
That is my laugh you are thinking of. Delusion is a terrible thing.