The Shock of Blue Ocean

"Switchy - switchy" is the preferred (by the twins) method of putting them to bed. Dan lies down in bed with one daughter, and I lie down in bed with the other. We have a cuddle and a chat. One of the girls calls out, "Switchy - switchy", and Dan and I switch beds, and repeat the entire process again with that daughter. This doesn't happen often because we have three children to put to bed, and it's a bit of a pain. But the other night we indulged the girls.

When it was my turn in Katie's bed, I asked her what she wanted to talk about. Sometimes, she wants me to tell her all about some movie or another. I hate this. I'm not a movie person, and I don't know a lot of movie plots. It usually ends with her being disappointed in me. Sometimes, she wants me to tell her a funny story about when I was a child. Lots of pressure to be funny, let me tell you! This time, she wanted me to tell her the story of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs.

I don't especially like "Princess Stories". Nothing is more upsetting to me than telling my daughter that a prince will come in, save the day, and (if she's really lucky) marry her. I tend to mix it up a bit. This night, I told her the story of Snow White almost exactly as told by Disney. Until I got to the end. Here's how I ended it:

After Snow White married the prince, she had twin daughters. The first one had the bluest eyes you've ever seen. Snow White named her Blue Ocean. The second one had beautiful, yellow hair. Snow White named her Golden Hair. Do you want to know the truth? You are Blue Ocean and Bethie is Golden Hair. One day I came along and saw you. I snatched you up and took you home!

Before I could get any further, Katie sat bolt upright in her bed. With a mixture of shock and horror, she yelled out "WHY HAVE YOU NEVER TOLD ME THIS BEFORE?!".

Oops. Not exactly the "lull her to sleep" story that I had intended to provide. I guess that it's hard to relax when your mother, ever so casually, announces that she has kidnapped you and your twin. Instead of growing up in the Disney castle, the twins had to grow up in our hovel. Instead of having "loyal, royal servants" to cater to their every whim, they have had to endure our incompetent labour, and periodically, their precious little ears would hear that vile word: "No". My story was less like the Disney version, and more like the Brothers' Grimm!

The worst bit? The twins are really mine and they are here to stay. There's not Disney Princess coming to reclaim her heirs. Bad luck, Chicklets!