Well, it's hard for me to really judge actual hobbits, since I'm pretty short myself. But I'm really pretty sure these younglings are hobbits. I would like you to picture what they look like (without actually showing you a picture). Picture in your head the most adorable brown-eyed, brown curly haired five year old boy in the world. In the world. Now multiply that by 20.
His sister? She has blue blue eyes and the cutest little golden ringlet curls that would make Rosie Cotton want to pull out her own hair in envy. And I wish she would. Try putting ribbons in THAT, Rosie Cotton, and see if Samwise Gamgee would still want to marry you.
By the way, the hobbit boy child said I could call him Sam. So that's what I'll call him in this blog. And the girl--okay, I guess I'll call her Rosie. Cuz if Samwise fell in love with this little doll, I really couldn't blame him.
Anyway, this adventure to the Shire began with the building of a hobbit house. I knew that we would be building a hobbit house, because I accidentally promised Sam a hobbit house.
Cuz if you see an adorable five-year-old hobbit boy child in the hallways at preschool, and you tell adorable five-year-old hobbit boy child, jokingly, that you want to take him home with you, and if adorable five-year-old hobbit boy child says, "OKAY! Let's go," and you find yourself having to backtrack and think of all the reasons why adorable five-year-old hobbit boy child can't come home with you, and if you tell adorable five-year-old hobbit boy child that you don't have room for him, so he'd have to sleep in the bathtub, then adorable five-year-old hobbit boy child genius might say, "Well, then build me a house so I can stay with you." And when you look in the big brown eyes of adorable five-year-old hobbit boy child, there's little you can do besides say, "Absolutely."
And then for the next three months, adorable five-year-old hobbit boy child will remind you that you promised to build a house with him. A hobbit house. With a blue door and a yellow door.
We didn't build a hobbit house with a blue door and a yellow door, but we took over Sam's driveway to build a hobbit house of epic proportions.
Only, it wasn't really a hobbit house. It was a castle. Only it wasn't really a castle. It was a wall to ward off the evil Dragons. Because when you're a hobbit child, imaginary buildings can be whatever you want whenever you want. And regarding the wall to ward off evil Dragons, Sam knew without me having to tell him that there are both evil Dragons and good Dragons. That's because Sam is awesome. Sam also liked using the word awesome ALMOST as much as I did. Because he's awesome.
Well, the neighbor's kid came over and somehow the hobbit house/castle/evil Dragon prevention wall fell over. We tried to build it again, but somehow Sam wasn't the biggest fan of being inside a fortress that simply warded off the scented bubbles his little sister was blowing.
So we went to play with playdough. I made snails. According to Sam, they were the most amazingly awesome epic playdough snails he'd ever seen. I'm inclined to agree
Sam made a monster truck/race car/rocket ship/war machine. With a horn on top. It was also awesome and good.
Rosie made a mess.
Sam asked me how old I was. I told him I was "this many," and held up all my fingers three times, then added a four, because that's how many I am. He said, "TEN?" I said, "No." Again, I held up ALL my fingers three times, then held up four. He said, "TWENTY-FOUR?!?" I said, "No." Again, I held up all of my fingers three times, then held up four. He said, "FOURTEEN MILLION?!?" I said, "Yes."
This is why I am not a math teacher.
I am reminded of this video, which you should watch after you finish reading this post. And then you should watch all the other videos that Bored Shorts TV has ever made in the history of ever. You'll thank me later.
Then Rosie, Sam ,and I went into the garage to color. That's when SCIENCE happened. Sam was drawing me a flower. He wouldn't let me look at it until it was done, because, according to him, it was an awesome magical rainbow flower that was so beautiful it would make me cry.
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So I was looking away from his picture, asking Rosie to name her colors.
Just then, an evil Dragon flew over head. And Rosie, aged three, plainly said, "What? It's thunder! I'm freaking out, here!"
I assured her that it wasn't thunder. She said, "You're right. It's a BEAUTIFUL day outside." But she still wanted to know what was making the growly sound overhead. She was still freaking out.
It wasn't ACTUALLY an evil Dragon. It was actually a nice jet plane. So I told them that it was just a plane, and if they waved really hard, the people in the airplane might see them and feel happy. So we all waved at the sky like fools.
As if that wasn't enough SCIENCE for them, Sam asked me why the jet noise was so loud and kept going for so long.
I said, "Well, sound travels really really fast. And when sound travels really fast, it doesn't like anything to travel faster than it. So when the jet plane gets SO FAST that it flies FASTER THAN SOUND, sound gets REALLY angry and just shouts 'BOOM!'"
Rosie and Sam were both like, "Whoa."
This is why I am not a science teacher.
The day ended with a Dragon hunt (a good Dragon hunt--we were saving the good Dragons from the evil ones), in which Sam became a secret agent (who, of his own volition, lifted up his sunglasses and winked at me), Rosie became an elf, and I became a good ogre/spy/fairy/elf who is also a ninja. And we went through mystical portals and caves and dungeons, until our quest ended with the great battle of Sam's Driveway. Sam led the charge, so Rosie and I lifted our imaginary swords and ran down the hill, defeating all the evil Dragons and saving all the good ones.
Afterwards, Sam, the mighty hero, got hugs, high fives, and fist bumps from who he described to be the "two pretty princesses," and we all went in for some yogurt.
And also, we rolled up in blankets and pretended to be caterpillars. Then we were all butterflies. Then we were all caterpillars again, because that's how we roll in the Shire. Literally. ...we roll in blankets. ...as caterpillars. ...that's how we roll.
You know, I'm not a kid anymore. I'm all my fingers three times plus four, but there's something amazing about getting to hang out with hobbit children. You remember how to be a hobbit child, yourself. I can almost guarantee that my day was more epic than yours, even if I didn't really go to the Shire. But I kinda sorta did.
Be jealous.
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