So I'm sitting here doing background research on a story I'm working on. My in-depth analysis of wind power is interrupted by a loud, fish-bowl rattling crash.
"Uh, Nova, what was that noise... do you need medical attention?"
"S'okay, mummy," answers my five-year-old. "Boys drool and girls rule," she adds with enthusiasm.
"No, it isn't actually okay. What is that noise? And I concur. Boys drool. Most of them lie through their teeth too and they do it as easily and often as breathing."
*CRASH*
"NOVA"
"It's just me, mummy. I'm learning to fly. Maffew doesn't lie."
"You're right, Matthew doesn't lie. He is brutally honest, which is definitely preferable to the usual masculine drivel. By the way, you have no wings."
"WHAT!?"
"You have no wings."
"Oh."
"Nova, if you must learn to fly, could you learn to land more softly, please? Especially beside the table with the fish bowl on it. Great Nugia and Purple Surple are scared."
"They're boys you know."
So, I know what I'm going to do with my time later in life. When I am really old and still single and bitter I'll be spending time with my daughters who will probably have as much success with relationships as I am - for some indefinable reason.
Girls, marry your careers and have kittens. Careers will always be there when you need them, even when you don't, and kittens don't speak any language you understand so they can't lie to you.
There is only one Matthew in the world and, unfortunately for you, he's your cousin.
All the other boys drool.
Too funny!
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