So despite our best efforts to distract and divert, our daughter has sadly not forgotten about the blue wings. So, with no small sense of trepidation, I logged on to that great warehouse in the sky and searched the South American river. It was with great relief that an acceptable set was found: A set of floppy, nylon butterfly wings complete with antenna headband. Unfortunately, she also spotted a rigid pair of light up wings that were to fit an adult. Lucky me.
Sure enough, within 24 hours both sets had dutifully shown up in an oversize brown box and a hopeful little face excitedly donned the wings and headband, then promptly threw herself off the nearest bookcase proclaiming she could fly. No amount of evidence will convince her she can’t, and she has taken to throwing herself off high objects again.
Luckily the flashing lights on the wings she insisted I wear seem to distract her and, when outside, she feels the need to stop and attempt to drink nectar from every flower. This act is impeded by the lack of a proboscis, but it’s safer than the flying attempts, so for the moment I’m not going to dissuade her.
When her father finished work and found her (happily) and me (grumpily) wearing wings, he was promptly interrogated as to where his wings were. Her brain screeching to a halt was visible when she was told he didn’t have any. She looked from mine to hers, and then back to him, and looked very confused. Then back to me, with big puppy eyes, before asking her father what colour wings he would like?
So guess who has a nice set of green wings now?
Raising the Modern Fae 