Peering into the mirror, she sighed.
“I guess I could have more fun.”
“More?!” Came the incredulous reply.
Lowering her gaze, the Woman stared at the half-pint reflection of her once younger self and silently agreed with Shakespeare. “And though she be but little she is fierce.”
Half-pint continued.
“MORE, would imply there was some already being had. And if for one second MORE you entertain the notion that you’ve been having actual fun? WELL, that my dear, would be the mirage in your desert! To speak more plainly, that would be a sham! And furthermore, to quote Mary Poppins, “Harrumph!”
The Woman waited a beat, and then with both brows raised, replied, “Don’t you think you’re being overly dramatic?”
“I say, Woman!” Half-pint drew herself up to her entire length--all four feet of her person. “The end justifies the means!”
In reply, the Woman furrowed her brow.
Undaunted, Half-pint continued. “And now that I have your undivided attention, are we going to have actual Fun or will you insist on perpetuating Fake Fun?!”
The Woman was beginning to wonder if this was indeed her inner-child. Surely, she had never been this decidedly forthcoming with her opinions in her youth. But something else Half-pint had said caught her attention. “What do you mean, Fake Fun?”
“Cleaning and organizing the house—even if underscored by musical accompaniment of the 80ties variety comes to mind,” was the saucy reply.
“Excuse me!” exclaimed the Woman. “The cleaning and organizing has to be done, thank you very much! AND, since I LOVE 80ties music, I should be getting high marks for my creative approach!”
Half-pint regarded her coolly. “Making work ‘fun’” the latter word emphasized with air quotes, “is not the same as having real fun! And while, yes, a part of me wants to give you points for creativity, there’s another part that sees that as aiding and abetting.”
“That’s cop drama terminology” said the Woman rather passive aggressively. “I don’t believe this conversation warrants that. I’ve committed no crime.”
“You’ve committed a crime against FUN!” Half-pint exploded. “You’ve been aiding and abetting Fake Fun to perpetrate Identity Theft! Ohhh, it seems rather harmless at first—you let Fake Fun in—dress her up as Fun. But before you know it, you’re in over your head and find yourself automatically reaching out to Fake Fun. All. The. Time. Well, I’m tired of it! And Fun is tired of it as well! It’s fraud, Doll Face! Fraud!”
Mirroring the weight of Half-pint’s accusations, and the sinking suspicion that it was all true, the Woman sank down to her knees and for the first time during the exchange found herself seeing eye-to-eye with mini-her.
Could it be? Frantically, she searched her recent memory looking for one example of having fun—real fun-- for fun’s sake. She turned up nothing.
“Oh, no!” Her whisper barely audible. How had she gotten here? “Oh, no, what have I done? What am I going to do?”
Satisfied that she was now being taken seriously, “There, there,” Half-pint called out soothingly. “All’s not lost. Luckily, I can get you out of this predicament, as long as you do exactly what I tell you to.”
And with that, Half-pint reached out from within the mirror. “Well?” she asked. “What’s it gonna be?”
For a few seconds, the Woman stared, motionless, at the outstretched hand. And then, with a dawning twinkle in her eyes, she made her decision. (© I.O.)