I was working in the office-slash-playroom on Friday. (You don’t have an office-slash-playroom? Smart you.) The boys were behaving as well as they can at any given time, meaning that they were playing nicely but being loud. Ah, genetics. I was half-listening, half-editing when I heard something that made me tune into the little guys.
“Yeah, you don’t want to get burned by the llama!”
Huh.
“Oh, save me from the llama!”
Interesting.
I mean, camels can bite your hair and I have heard that llamas can be feisty, but I didn’t really know they had blipped onto the radar of my kids in a super hero (or villain) fashion. We have the Llama, Llama books, of course. And I hate Llama, Lama Red Pajama because that little snot teaches my kids bad things about bedtime routines. But again, they didn’t seem all that drawn to the books, barely ranking in their Occasionally Ask for But Ignore You When You Read It book list.
So, I bit. I asked.
“Hey guys, what’s llama?”
BigBrother paused and turned to look up at me. “You know. It’s hot.”
“Uh, no. You’re going to have to explain a bit more.”
“It’s kind of like fire. And if you fall in it, you die.”
Light bulb.
“Oh! You mean lava!”
“Yes! Lava!”
LittleBrother, having just watched this exchange, shook his head. “No, it’s llama. Burning hot llama.”
I didn’t correct him. Though his brother did for the rest of the afternoon, thus causing arguments all day. I wish I had listened for just a little bit longer to realize on my own that llama meant lava. Then I could have let it go for quite some time and played along when we play Super Mario Bros. Wii together.
All the same, I think Anna Dewdney should write a new Llama book. Llama, Llama, Burning Hot Llama. Hopefully she makes this one less whiny and annoying and more crazy llama in your face. I’d like that book much better.
