I might think I am creative. I might think I can write fiction, create interesting scenarios, pithy one-liners, and rich environments. But I can’t compare to my daughter, who continually proves that art imitates life.
If I tried to come up with the girliest thing ever, it wouldn’t match what Child Harbat said this weekend. When asked why she was prancing around the yard, she replied that she was “A sugar plum pegahorn with her ten little babies.” Maybe you’re asking yourself, “What is a pegahorn?” Well, it’s just the BEST THING EVER!!!1!! Take a normal horse and stick a horn on its snout and it becomes a unicorn. Take a normal horse and add wings and it becomes a Pegasus. Combine a Pegasus and a unicorn and you get a pegahorn. “Wait, shouldn’t that be a pegacorn?” Shut up, you, this is my blog. CH calls it a pegahorn, which makes more sense, and a pegacorn sounds like some kind of hideous foot disease.
My only real chance at writing good fiction is keeping a list of the things Child Harbat says and taking them for myself. She uses “You’re KIDDING!” as an insult, thinks that singing “Butter, butter butter…and CINNAMON!” is the proper way to ask for morning toast, and that eleventeen comes after sixteen. These are things I wish could make up.