Some days I feel like Joss Whedon's Mutant Enemy puppet. Except that would be nicer, because then someone would be walking me around, instead of me having to expend the energy to do it myself.
Last night, instead of finishing the Sequel chapter I was working on, I got to sit in Nayna's room and wait for her to stop crying. She had been watching one of those pretend nature programs set in prehistoric times. Normally those don't bother her, but for whatever reason the carnivorous bird chick hatching and then being attacked by giant ants touched a nerve and the poor little thing just bawled.
Hot Stuff and I felt awful for letting her watch it. We should have known better--she's only five! I used to cry over nature shows when the cute animals would get eaten, too. Granted, the little bird puppet wasn't exactly cute, but she liked it well enough. Fortunately, after about forty-five minutes she stopped crying and informed me that the mother bird had left someone to watch the baby bird, and they scared away all the ants.
(See? Storytelling = quick emotional bandaids!)
Of course, Hot Stuff and I felt a little less guilty for damaging her delicate sensibilities when I showed him her drawing from earlier that day:
She did inform me yesterday that she only likes extinct animals. Apparently her pity only applies to them, as well. People are fair game.