Peter Pan Syndrome

In direct contrast to my five things that make me an adult - here is some evidence I am still a dumb kid:

1) Brittney gave me a Barbie. I started to play with her today. I brushed her hair and put on her shoes and then decided it is a lot more fun to play Barbie with a sister/friend/daughter (gasp! stamping down maternal instinct...stamp! And stay down!) Oh all right - fine, maybe a daughter. Kare-bear has become way more interested in real boys then the plastic kind anyway. Maybe that is the point of having children - an excuse to play with their toys (while you make them do the dishes).

2) For some really random reason our home office sent us slinkies. I don’t really get the whole marketing strategy behind that one, but it doesn’t matter much because, goodness my work days are busy now: building obstacle courses for the slinky to navigate, juggling slinkies (read: dropping slinkies), making slinky bracelets, making slinky sling-shots . . . you get the point. Oh, and this is what a slinky looks like: (((((((((((((( )

3) Hello, my name is lada and I play video games. (blushing) In fact, I might need an Xbox 360 because this new game Oblivion looks bad ass.

4) I have always had a soft spot for Fantasia. And now, at the ripe old age of 25, I have the answer to a question that has plagued me for almost 20 years. It has been discussed and argued and investigated, and just when I had accepted that there was no answer, I have it - right in front of me. That's right kiddies, the Childlike Empress from The Neverending Story has a name.



(Scene)
Childlike Empress: Bastian! Call my name!
Bastian: I can't! I have to keep my feet on the ground!
C.E.: Bastian, PLEASE! Save us! (Fantasia crumbling around her)
Bastian: All right! I'll do it! I'll save you!

Then he bellows her new name out a window into a raging thunderstorm and saves the world. But the only thing we the viewers can make out over the wind/rain/thunder is, "Ma-wah-blah." Huh? What's the name?
I actually bought the DVD a couple years ago and watched it with the subtitles on hoping for an answer. No such luck. Fine, I thought, perhaps she doesn't have a real name. That would allow the ten year olds of the world to create their own names, you know, use their imaginations and stuff. Wrong. My sweet coz bought me the book (how did I miss the book?) and I am reading it and now I KNOW HER NAME. It is not, as we assumed, his mother's name - unless his mother was a total hippie. You want to know it, don't you? Well, perhaps you don't, but those patient readers who have known me for the past 20 years will at least be relieved that we don't have to talk about it anymore. If you want to maintain your own childlike innocence (or if you are really bored with this topic), stop reading here. Ready...

"...Only he, Bastian, could do anything about it. And he would have to do something, or else he too would be included in the circle. It seemed to him that this story had been repeated a thousand time, as though there were no before and after and everything had happened at once...Bastian was unaware of the tears that were running down his cheeks. Close to fainting, he suddenly cried out: "Moon Child, I'm coming!" In that moment several things happened at once..."

There you have it. Moon Child. I had to let it sink in . . . Hmmm . . . Moon Child, huh? Hmmm . . ."This is my son Battle and my daughter Moon Child." Has a ring to it, no?

If you're ever on Jeopardy - The names of the three monkeys are Mizaru (see no evil), Kikazaru (hear no evil), and Iwazaru (speak no evil).

- lada never puts off until tomorrow what she can do the day after