Modern Warfare

The first few days post-Christmas are a sleepy, vacation-minded Mommy's dream.  There are so many new toys to play with and family around, so the battles are few and far between. 

The sibling battles, that is.  The military battles have just begun.

"Graham, should we use our new army guys and have a battle?"

"Otay.  I'm this guy!"

"And I'm this guy.  And now, we have a battle."  After thinking, Cael asked, "Mommy, what is a battle?"

"A battle is a big fight between a bunch of people.  Like in a war."

"Oh, okay.  So Graham, my guys are mad at your guys because they don't like your dinosaur."

"But my dinosaur is the best!"

"No, he's not.  He ate one of my guys.  And he's not as cool as my horse!"

"I will cook your horse with my camping stuff.  I have a stone."

"A stove, Graham," I piped in.

"Yeah, a stone."

"Well when you cook my horse on your stove, I'm gonna fly away with your Buzz Lightyear wings."

"No you won't!  Captain America's tank will stop you."

Now, I certainly don't want to thwart their creativity, but during their strategic planning, the boys had forgotten the army men altogether who were now a tempting military target for a certain highly-trained canine, fresh off of medical leave for a chocolate-coin incident.

"Boys, you've forgotten about your army men completely.  Plus, this isn't really what wars are about.  They are about the way rulers run their country, or about trying to take over new land.  Not about dinosaurs and cooked horses."

"Let's shoot Mommy!"

"Yeah!"

"And your dinosaur can eat her arms!"

"Yeah!"

"You'd better not attack me.  If your dinosaur eat my arms, who will cook your dinner?"

"Daddy....?"

Their strategy has nothing on me.