A week or so ago, David and I were enjoying after supper hot drinks in our dining room, and occasionally glancing at each other at the loud crashing sounds coming from overhead (the boys rooms). Suddenly there were loud cries and wails. Here came trouble...
It was Ben, he had been bitten by Pip, and it was a pretty good bite too. Not quite breaking the skin, but leaving a nasty mark. While I cuddled Ben, David asked Tim (in a stern Daddy voice) just what was going on.
"Well," said Tim thoughtfully, "we were playing gladiators, and that was going very nicely."
"Yes?" said David, drawing out the yes, and still in stern Daddy voice, though I could tell from his eyes that he was already finding this amusing.
"And then Pip bit Ben!"
Ben by this point had stopped crying, so I got up to go have my stern Mummy talk with Pip. Just as I was leaving the room, I heard Tim explaining to David why Pip had bitten Ben.
"You see," said Tim very matter-of-factly, "Pip was a lion."
When I got upstairs, there was a very penitent lion waiting for me. It was hard not to laugh looking into his big, brown eyes, listening to him explain earnestly how in future he would just roar at Ben, and not bite.
So the evening ended well, with hugs all round, and forgiveness sought and received, and a resolution that I hope is upheld not to let oneself get carried away when one becomes a fierce creature.