Reality? What’s that got to do with anything?
“I want to trade dollies with Grace,” Jazz informs me. Grace is right beside her on the kitchen floor. Jazz has a baby doll, Grace has a Groovy Girl. Seems Groovy Girls are the doll to have today.
“I don’t want to trade,” Grace responds, calmly playing with the dolly of desire. Neither girl looks at each other. I could transmit Grace’s response to Jazz, but I would rather teach Jazz to deal direct with Grace. I have no desire to be the intermediary in all their encounters, and why should Jazz want one?
“Well, I don’t have the dolly. Grace does. You need to ask Grace if she would like to trade.”
“I don’t want to trade.” Grace is not alarmed, she is just informing us of her position. She continues to play, not bothering to look up.
Given this, it’s rather surprising when Jazz goes along with my pointless exercise. “Grace, do you want to trade dollies?” Jazz asks, in her best, perky, friendly, let’s-DO-this voice.
“I don’t want to trade.” (Surprise, surprise.)
I look at Jazz, who is standing, staring at Grace as if she’s expecting something more.
“Well, Jazz. What did Grace say?”
Grace answers the question, yet again. Her tone of voice is level and not particularly interested, same as it’s been throughout all this. Her position has not changed. “I don’t want to trade.”
Jazz looks up at me, her face happily alight.
“Her said YES!”
Why fight reality when you can just re-write it?!?
(Her didn’t get that dolly. Mary is such a poop.)