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With various social work trundled along its merry way, Astrid is formally adopted as Astrid Irene Adams, declared to be four years old with a birthday on March 30 for paperwork purposes, and successfully passed off as human to all prying eyes.
She grows and falls over a lot and maintains her orange coiffure and reads books and is generally precocious. The veganism and the aversion to salt and lipids persist.
Her fifth basketday approaches.
bulrushes
asmyown
"I don't think so. Lots of things float. Ducks, for example. That doesn't mean you're a duck."
But if she weighs as much as a duck, she's a witch. Har, har.
But if she weighs as much as a duck, she's a witch. Har, har.
asmyown
"Let's see, do you have any feathers?" Lynn pretends to check. "I can't find any, can you find any?"
asmyown
"Oh, dear! What about a bill, do you have a bill? Hmmmmm, no, that looks like a nose to me." Just to prove her point, Lynn pokes it.
bulrushes
"I got a nose job," says Astrid reasonably.
She spends much of her time around high schoolers who occasionally contemplate things they'll be able to do on reaching the age of majority.
She spends much of her time around high schoolers who occasionally contemplate things they'll be able to do on reaching the age of majority.
asmyown
"Bad people! Why, I'd argue that they're worse than that. They are," she lowers her voice conspiratorially, "supremely aviophobic. And they're not even the ones flying!"
asmyown
"Aviophobia is the fear of flight. Usually it's when a person gets on a plane and goes flying, but I stretched the terminology a smidgen to mean fear of flight in general."
asmyown
"Maybe! But it could be something else entirely. They might want a monopoly on flight." She wiggles her fingers menacingly.