I am determined to ruin the lives of my children. I do this in subtle ways: by not letting them watch television, by not letting them eat entire candy bars in one sitting, and by making them do creative activities rather than playing video games.
And so it came to pass one Saturday morning. Keene was at the store, probably spending an hour deliberating between which kind of bacon to buy. You see, I will adamantly not eat regular bacon. But the kids don't like my turkey bacon. And Keene, well, being from California, likes that weird non-bacon, non-meat Play-Doh-looking stuff.
He calls it "faken," rhyming with "bacon."
But that's not the point. The point is that while he was gone, I decided to ruin Maia's life by not helping her look for her lost Nintendo DS. Instead, I introduced her to the concept of paper dolls. And not just paper dolls, but...wait for it...homemade paper dolls.
With cardstock and coloring pencils, we got to work on a Maia paper doll. Complete with colored feathers in her hair. After I sketched each piece of clothing, she colored it to her liking. Once Paper-Maia had a sizeable wardrobe, we made hangers and a bar for her dollhouse closet.
Oh, and hey, Paper-Maia even has a Frogger hat:
After eating breakfast, I went out for some lunchtime drinks because hey, it was a Saturday. I came home, drank some more with Keene, because hey, it was still Saturday. Then got back to work on the paper dolls.
This is Paper-Maia, from the Heist series:
"This is a stick-up!" yells Paper-Maia, before pistol-whipping the bank-teller, as she sports trendy cutoff jean capris and an '80s-style striped tee.
At this time, I decided Keene also needed a paper doll. I sketched and erased and sketched and erased...
By the time he returned home from wherever he had been trying to run, I was finished:
I proudly showed Paper-Keene to Real-Keene. Who said, "Am I really that chunky?" I looked at Paper-Keene and back at Real-Keene. "It's not chunky!" I said, taking offense. "I think it looks just like you!" He replied, "Okay, but could you at least get rid of my gunt?"
**Note to readers: if you do not know what a gunt is, please do not ask anybody. Especially not your boss or teenage daughter. And especially do not Google this. It is nothing you really need to know and you most certainly do not need to see.**
I erased the offending lines and Keene warmed up to his paper-self.
He even mimicked Paper-Keene's happy frollicking:
After all the merriment at having a paper-twin had died down, I determined that Paper-Keene needed some clothes. But not just any clothes...he needed some groovy, rico suave clothes:
And detachable mustache, of course.
But as night descended upon us, Groovy Paper-Keene morphed into...
And that, my friends, is what a typical Saturday with me is like. You just never know when or where or how the fun will strike. Will you even consider it fun when it does strike? Or will it just be semi-awkward laughing and cringing and wishing I would fall asleep already?
You. Just. Never. Know.