Captain Chaos has always been a bit of a flirt.
I have proof of this.
Yesterday he spent a few pouty minutes complaining that none of the little girls would play with him at the play place. They bonded together in tiny pink communes, choosing instead to infest the upper crawlways of the McDonalds playplace. Any boys attempted to enter this mini-estrogenized zone were deterred by the sheer amount of pink within view.
Not so my Captain Chaos. You see him crawl swiftly into their midst as they pretended to pour tea for small stuffed animals. Then he stood up, and in his best dinosaur impersonation growled loudly.
There was an immediate explosion of dainty screams and a flurry of activity as the pink masses burst apart at the seams and scrambled away as quickly as possible.
Uncertain of which way to chase first, my little charmer followed the older girls as they screamed their way in excitement down the slide. As abruptly as they parted, he began chasing the younger group who screamed as they bolted in another direction.
He tried charm. They rebuked him with high pitched squeals. He tried prose. More screams. Finally he resorted to the only weapon left in his arsenal of cuteness.
He reached out with one finger, tapped the oldest girl on the shoulder, and said clearly, “Tag. You’re IT!”
He ran… and suddenly was chased by little girls. I hear girly screaming of a different sort--- and my son Captain Chaos runs by, his pants slowly falling off his non-existent butt from the running, being chased by a mass of pink and bows.
