Laying down the law

My children do not suffer from identity crises, nor do they have any problem perceiving their place in the world.

Boy: I am Boss #1, and Girl is Boss #2.
Dad: Does that mean we're Bosses # 3 and 4.
Boy: Nooooo! You're our slaves.
Dad: Which is Slave #1 and 2?
Boy: Well.... Mummy is Slave #1.
Me: Girl, am I your mummy or a slave?
Girl: [smiling sweetly] You're my slave, mummy.

I'm assuming that Slave #1 is the person responsible for the bulk of the slaving that goes on around here.

Boy has the makings of a sociopathic supreme leader. Nothing is ever his fault. Everything should be precisely as he wants it. Everyone else in the entire English-speaking world is wrong, you do so spell it bloons.

Girl's a bit more like the quirky dictator who sometimes indulges in benevolence. She finds everything hilarious and demands lots of cuddles, but then sometimes she gets angry and starts raging, which is funny for everyone else (though it won't be once she's in command of an actual firing squad).

A spoonful of trouble

Boy drew a picture at school of a worry bag, in which he was to add all his troubles.

He is worried about (in no particular order):

Planes dropping bombs on his house in a war.
The earth exploding
And...
An emu running off with him in its beak.

He agrees that the first two are unlikely.

What a girl wants

I've been informed that, apparently, it's not good to say 'shush' or similar to little girls since lacking a Y chromosome means she's likely to get hushed into compliant submission as an adult by everyone else.

Girl has heard this and has taken to yelling at me: "Don't shush me mama!" or "Stop shushing me!"

I suspect she isn't going to have any problem standing up for herself. Or I hope not. It's a nuisance sometimes now (though equally cute and endearing at times), but I'm sure it'll mean she's an alpha female one day.

.....

She told me a bedtime story yesterday:

Once upon a time there were three little pigs and they were lazy.
Along came a big, bad wolf in fluffy underpants and he knocked on their door and then ate them all up.

She seems to have gotten the main points, more or less.

...

The other day, when Boy declared that he couldn't possibly use the plate that had been lovingly provided for him since a cow had pooed on it, we expressed some credulity about the likelihood that a cow could come into our house, let along defecated anywhere, without us noticing.

Girl told us: Yes, it was ONE cow. And it pooed EVERYWHERE! [add sound effects]