Red Letter Days?

Maya doesn't have them. But she does have red shoe days. Lots of red shoe days. And with the red shoes comes the accompanying red shoe attitude--spunk galore.

Today for the first time she tried her hand at photography. No surprises....

We love our spunky red shoe girl.

A Small Mercy

Maya is a darling, wonderful girl. She's also loud and blunt--sometimes bordering on obnoxious. Sometimes she's way past the border, with her feet firmly planted in Obnoxious Land.

Yesterday we were at a large children's hospital. It's the type of place where your heart aches for the hardships some children have to bear, the type of place where you count your blessings.

Maya was sitting at a table in the waiting room, coloring a picture of Barney the Dinosaur. A little girl of about 4 or 5 sat down across from her. One side of her head showed the face of a beautiful Asian girl. The other side was hugely disfigured. I know Maya. I know she doesn't mince words. If she saw her, she'd say something--something innocent but hurtful. I silently prayed that Maya wouldn't notice, knowing that she would. Maya looked up and stared. She squinted her eyes like she was trying to readjust her focus. The girl pulled her hair across the side of her face and looked down at her paper. Maya leaned over onto the table and peeked up under the girl's hair, getting a better look. I literally held my breath and prayed. Maya, please don't hurt this poor little girl's feelings.

Maya settled herself back into her chair, stopped squinting, and said, "You want to share my crayons?" The little girl nodded yes and they giggled and passed crayons back and forth. The girl's mom said to her daughter, "Looks like you made a friend." Truly an answer to prayer. A small mercy.

He Ain't Heavy; He's My Bruder

Adam was the first to see her in person, through the lens of the video camera. He'd gone down the hall at the Lottery Hotel and found the room where the babies were waiting. He got her on film (click the link to see it) and ran back to tell us--in a voice that was still high and squeaky--

"I saw her! I saw Qiu Ju!"

They adored each other from the very first moment, like they'd always been together.

Adam treated her with such patience and love, giving me a glimpse of the type of Dad he'll be someday.

And at the mall when Maya turned heads with her Chinese squeaky shoes, Adam tried to look cool despite the persistent SQUEAK, SQUEAK, SQUEAK going on next to him. But he didn't let go of her hand.

Maya works very hard to keep up with him and Adam is good about waiting for her. I love when he comes home from school and shouts, "Hi ya' Maya Moogin!" And she shouts back, "Hi ya' Adam Moogin!"

But last night was a moment that rivals them all. It was a moment when I so wished I'd had a camera. Adam was wrestling (hence the lack of camera---Adam has banned them from meets) and he was doing fantastic. He had his opponent in the cradle (learning the lingo) and was straining every muscle. Maya was saying, "Adam! Adam! Adam!" It was a cross between a cheer and a whimper. The first round ended with Adam ahead in points. Adam fought and fought during the second round, but you could tell he was tiring. There was grunting and struggling and good moves by both sides, but ultimately Adam lost.

At this point I realized I'd had the arm of the man next to me in a death grip. I was smoothing his crumpled sleeve when Maya in her purple skirt/shirt combo and red Mary Janes jumped off my lap and ran for the mat. Adam's teammates were lined up, giving him high fives as he walked tiredly down the line. Maya positioned herself at the end and stuck her hand up. I debated running down to get her; I didn't want him embarrassed. Adam didn't see her right away (she's only in the 30 pound weight class), but Maya pushed past the wrestlers, calling his name. He smiled and gave her not only a high five, but a hug.

Earning him major points in my book.

Connecting the Dots--Three Year Old Style

Yesterday morning Maya climbed into our bed and said, "You weren't my mommy. China was my mommy." She didn't say it sadly or angrily, just matter-of-factly.

It took me completely off guard. Lately she's been asking if she was in my tummy. She knows she wasn't and that her sibling were, but I've certainly never put it in terms of: Mommy/Not Mommy. Somehow Maya decided that at least on some level tummy = mommy. My knee-jerk reaction to what she said was to feel hurt. "I AM your mommy now and forever."

"Yes," she said, almost like well, of course, "but China was my mommy."

I couldn't argue. And I couldn't even necessarily come up with someone more specific than "China".

Then she asked if we could tell her about it. We got out a little book and snuggled together as we looked at pictures. I showed her the spot outside the orphanage where she was found. She's seen it before, but this time when I said, "This is where your China Mommy laid you," she said, "No." And her chin quivered. "No, because I would cry."

And then this morning, like no time had passed, she climbed into bed, snuggled up, and asked, "Why didn't China take me inside?"

My throat balled itself into a knot. "China Mommy couldn't take you inside."

"Oh," and she was quiet for several seconds (a long time for Maya) "But you could take me inside, right?"

"We could take you wherever we wanted."

"Even to go buy skirts?"

And I laughed. Thank you China for this precious girl.

The Red Shoes: A Love Story

It's a love triangle really. Three people and one pair of red shoes. Honestly though, the shoes are a character unto themselves, making it more of a love square.

Maya has an adorable little friend in her church nursery class. For the sake of this post we'll call her Elvira. Elvira is a stunning blond who not only has natural beauty and a winning personality, but also a shoe collection that makes Maya all drooly and envious. Look at gorgeous Elvira. Look closely and I think you'll see red shoes on her feet. The shoes that started it all. Three parts of the love square: Maya, Elvira, and the red shoes.

The fourth side of our love square is a boy from their nursery. We'll call him Fabio. Not only is he handsome, he's also an athlete. How could the girls not love him?

Now apparently Fabio wanted to marry Elvira, but at the time she was quite young, a baby really, and not yet talking. At least not to Fabio. This made Fabio wonder if Elvira was really his soul mate. Although other men may think differently, Fabio considered speech an important quality in a wife. Maya was lacking in the red shoe department, but being older than Elvira, could jabber with the best of them. She sweet-talked her way into Fabio's heart and became numero uno on his list of possible future wives.

But there was still the issue of the shoes. Maya really wanted those shoes. Of course Elvira didn't wear the red shoes to nursery every week. Only when, you know, she wore something red. She's classy like that. But on those lucky red Elvira Sundays, Maya would literally start to shake. She'd run to my side, pull my arm, and frantically whisper in my ear, "Elvira has those red shoes. The shoes that I love. Elvira's shoes. I want those shoes. The red shoes......"

I'd pry her off of me and she'd casually waltz on up to Elvira. "Wow. Those are some nice shoes, Elvira. I like those shoes. Red shoes."

Elvira could now talk. "Thank you," she'd say and then walk away from the slightly creepy shoe stalker. As any good stalker would do, Maya followed. "Can I try on those shoes, Elvira? I will wear them and then give them back. Elvira? Elvira?"

Elvira would go play, with the ever-present stalker close at hand--I mean close at foot. Nearby anyway, green with envy and wanting those shoes.

Maya was sometimes able to slide the shoes right off of Elvira's pretty feet, but evidently Elvira spoke to Glinda the Good Witch who told her, "Keep tight inside them. Their magic must very powerful or else she wouldn't want them so badly." Drat that Glinda. So Elvira started sitting Indian style, arranging her dress over the red shoes. Maya would give me the wide eyed, Can You Believe This look and point at the puffy dress covering the shoes. The girl owns red shoes and she's covering them up?! I would NEVER!

And then Elvira--Elvira of the big feet--grew out of the red shoes. Picture fireworks and choruses singing Hallelujah and brass bands playing. Her mother brought them one Sunday for Maya. I thought my daughter would cry from the sheer joy of it. It was perfectly right and fitting that the gift was given during church. Maya truly worships those shoes. She could care less if she's wearing red clothing or not. She puts them on first thing in the morning, has to have them forcibly removed so I can stuff her into the rain boots required by her school, changes into the red shoes the second she gets home, and wears them until she goes to bed at night. And when she gets into bed she orders me to put them on her windowsill so they'll be ready the next morning.

But back to our love square. So now Elvira talks and Maya has the red shoes. Fabio's current status on the issue of a future wife might be soley due to Elvira's gift of speech, but I don't think so. I think it's all about the transfer of the shoes. Fabio now says, "I will marry Elvira, but kiss Maya."

Which proves that even if you're a church-going gal, you throw on some red shoes, and suddenly you're that type of girl.

Truly there is some powerful magic in a pair of RED SHOES.

Feliz Cumpleanos de Maya

Last week Dora the Explorer arrived in our mailbox, inviting Maya to a birthday fiesta for her amiga on Sabado. Maya thought it was MUY bien. The birthday chica's madre and padre said no presents, por favor, and asked if each child could instead bring a can of comida for the food bank. "Fantastico! No problemo," I said. "HEY!" Maya said. Problemo! She'd been waiting a long time for an amiga party and was not very feliz about bringing pureed pumpkin. We talked mucho and eventually she saw the luz.

"It's O.K.," she sighed, looking at the can. "It comes with whipped cream."

Mmmm, Muy delicioso!

A Christmas Miracle

Maya sitting on Santa's lap. Happily.

For the past two years she has detested Santa; considered him in cahoots with the devil. Yesterday her ah-ha moment came in the mall, mid-way between JCPenny's and the food court. She saw Santa, tightened her grip on my hand, picked up the pace, and said, "I do not like that man."

"Too bad," said Abby. "He gives out candy canes."


Maya stopped dead in her tracks. I swear I heard brakes screeching. "I will see Santa." She said it with resolve. And then she not only saw Santa, she yukked it up. "Santa, I love your beautiful red Christmas hat," she gushed. I swear the girl was flirting. She hugged him.


An elf snapped a picture and I paid an exorbitant price, but it was worth it.

Photographic proof of a bonafide Christmas miracle.

Abby got one candy cane and Maya the flirt got two. Maya ran over to me, exultant. We were walking away when she said, "Just a minute," and sprinted those little red shoes right back to Santa. She threw one of her candy canes in his basket, put her hand on his knee and said, "Bring it to me later."

So young, and yet so scary smart.

And yes, I know her haircut makes her look like a boy. Yes, that makes me sad. But I have a No Tolerance policy on mullets and you saw what I had to work with.

The Best Stuff's Never Planned

The outfits were planned. Ditto with the setting, hairstyles, and photographer. The head bonk was unplanned. And I love it.

*****

The day before we left for China, five year-old Abby flew by herself to Idaho to stay with her grandparents. I took this picture in the airport and blinked back tears. My baby wouldn't be the baby anymore. The next time we saw each other, our lives would be different. Hopefully better, but different.

What if this new baby had issues that would now take the lion share of my time? What if I'd tempted fate and messed up the good thing we had going? Would this changing-point-in-our-lives day be something Abby would thank me for in the future or need to talk out with her therapist?

Two years later, the joy that I see pass between these two little girls, even when they're hitting heads, warms me through and through. Maya, our baby number 4 was planned. Ditto with the trip to China. Finding Abby a best friend was unplanned. And I love it.

Maya was a BAD girl last night

No, I shouldn't say that. Maya was a good girl who made a BAD decision. A really horribly bad decision. I saw this on the stairs and started to sweat.

It could be Olaf hair, I thought optimistically, but it didn't look fluffy enough and there were no twigs in the mix, so my heart beat faster. "Maya!" I yelled, "Quickly come see Mom!"




And oh yeah, it wasn't Olaf. A regular little Edward Scissorhands this girl is. Now this wasn't her first foray into self-styling; in the past she's taken a little trim here and there, but this was by far the most drastic. The front was obviously mutilated, but the rest is nearly as bad. One side fared worse than the other, so she's got this asymmetrical punk rock style going on. She's a punk all right.

This was our conversation following the incident:

"Maya, do we cut our own hair?"

"Yes, sometimes."

"O.K., obviously. But should we cut our own hair?"

"You can if you want to."

"No, you cannot. You won't ever cut your own hair again, right?"

"I might."

"Maya, it doesn't look PRETTY" (I know this was probably a bit harsh)

"I think it looks pretty. And Charlie looks pretty too....."

Poor Charlie.

So here's Maya in the style she'll be sporting for YEARS while her hair grows out.... or until she cuts it again....when she wants to.

And here's a picture of a kinder, gentler time, a time when my daughter had hair.

And wasn't quite so sassy.

One Step Forward, Two Steps Back

While Lyle was at basketball this morning and I was sighing deeply at the beauty of Saturday mornings and flannel sheets, Maya shuffled into my room, fully dressed. (She always dresses herself the instant she gets out of bed because she doesn't trust the rest of us with that job.) This morning she was in a backwards red shirt, yellow skirt with a tropical print, white ruffled socks, and the ever-present red shoes (the tap shoes are now second fiddle to the red Mary Janes). She was dragging bease behind her so I hoped that was a sign that maybe she was in a snuggly, sleep-in kind of mood. Mercifully she was and climbed into bed, arranging bease over the both of us, because the girl has a heart of gold.

"Mom," she said, "Abby was in your tummy right?"

Hmmm, we're back to this conversation. This nighttime conversation now popping up in the morning. "Yes, Abby was in my tummy."

"And Adam? Was he in your tummy too?"

"Yes, Adam was in my tummy."

"Madeline?"

"Yes, Madeline was in my tummy."

"And Daddy was in your tummy?"

I couldn't help but laugh, "No, Daddy was never in my tummy. Daddy was...."

"I know. I know. You met Daddy in China. Just like Maya."

We're close. Soclose. Just not quite there yet.

*And if I had the Photoshop know-how to create a picture of my Gotcha' Day with Lyle, I would do it. Instead you'll just have to imagine....his Gotcha' Day outfit, the hand-off, the crying confused Lyle, the tearfully joyful Eileen....the e-mails home to family, "I've GOT HIM! And wow, the clothes I brought are WAY too small!!! I guess that means more shopping trips! LOL!! For those of you buying clothes (Aunt Cindy, that's you!), I'd say he's more like a 32/32 in trousers and a 16 1/2 neck in dress shirts. But oh, you should have seen him in the split pants!!! He's a keeper, that's for sure!"

Family Photo Shoot: Air Maya

Good

Better

Best

Photos courtesy of the amazingly wonderful Blaine Wilson who I technically haven't paid yet, but I promise I will, so I hope he doesn't mind the posting of the photos, because he does read my blog, so he will see that I posted before payment, but he probably won't mind because he'll be so inundated with phone calls from my vast readership and everyone will simply have to have him take their family Christmas card photos and Middelfart might even fly him out to Denmark and what with the international travel and all he won't have time to worry about Eileen who maybe posted a few photos before the check was written. Whew. Just give him a call.

Soon I'll be updating our family photo--the one that's permanently on the blog--and it's certainly high time, but I will be sad to say goodbye to the old photo from the Shama Bartlett photo shoot. Shama who is also so talented and was able to make our incredibly unphotogenic family look surprisingly good.

A chrysanthemum by any other name....

We have two flower girls in the family. Abby is our Rose and Maya is our Chrysanthemum.

When I was pregnant with Abby, the two big kids were infatuated with the book "Chrysanthemum" by Kevin Henkes. If you have little girls, you've probably read it. It's a very cute children's book about a mouse named Chrysanthemum who loves her name..... until she starts school.

Adam and Madeline wanted to name their soon-to-be-born sister Chrysanthemum. Or Blossom Sprout. Or just Flower. One thing they knew for sure was that their sister needed to have a floral name. So we compromised with Abigail Rose. Five years later we got Qiu Ju's referral and learned that her Chinese name translates to Autumn Chrysanthemum. It was so perfect. Adam and Madeline finally got their sister Chrysanthemum.

I love to tell Chinese people Maya's name because without fail they say that Qiu 秋天 and Ju 菊 are wonderful, auspicious characters and that Maya should feel very proud of her name. The Qiu part of her name, Autumn, is pronounced "Cho", rhymes with go. For purposes of this post, I'll just spell it like that because I know from personal experience the mental strain it requires to look at "Qi" and say "Ch".

Cho Ju was one of many Chos in the orphanage. Each one of the children were named for the season in which they were found, so roughly 25% were Chos. To cut down on the confusion, they mostly just referred to the babies by the second name, in Maya's case, Ju, Chrysanthemum. In China, when speaking to children, it's common to double the name, "Ju Ju" or to add "Ah" before a name. So Maya was typically called Ju Ju or Ah Ju. Those names never really stuck with us because Ju, at least the way we pronounce it, sounds just like the religion, and Ah Ju sounds like the juice you dip your roast beef sandwiches in.

But Cho has stuck. I use her Chinese name frequently and when I do I feel like I'm affirming our love of her birth country and in a very small way keeping the promise I made to the CCAA that I'd help Maya remember China. But if the CCAA heard me say her name, oh they'd cringe. They'd so cringe to hear me call her:

Choey (frequently--almost as much as Maya)

Chochalita

Chosephine

The Choster

....and many other equally horrible variations on the Cho theme.

I butcher that poor girl's wonderful name written with the auspicious character. And while I think I'm doing her a favor by hanging onto that little piece of China, I defile her name with my American-ness and make it so awful that neither country wants to claim it.

America: Nope, the name Choey certainly doesn't come from us. We've got Zoey and Chloe, but no Choey. China, this one's on you.

China: 没有办法我們會使用這樣一個可笑名字!!!!! No Way.

So I'm sorry Choey about the Chinese-American hodgepodge of a name. I can't help it. If Abby went to China, a woman there would be unable to just call her Abby. She'd have to call her "Abby Abby" or "Ah Abby". She'd have no choice. And you are absolutely too cute to just be Cho. I simply must call you Choey. And pinch your sweet cheeks. I have no choice. Too dang Chobalicious.

The rest of you do horrid things to your kids' names, right? Please tell me it's not just me.

Cruella's Lipstick Proves Irresistible

What's Black and White and Red All Over?

That would be Cruella DeVille.

Her alter-ego, Madeline, is my Halloween nemesis. She's normally such a sweet and easy-going gal but Halloween brings out some OC tendencies that she keeps hidden the rest of the year. She plans her costumes well in advance down to the very last detail. Off-the-rack costumes? No how, no way. The year she went as Sacajawea, she was holed up in her bedroom beading a headdress for most of the month of October. The year she wanted to go with an Asian theme, I suggested Mulan (quick, easy, at the Disney Store), and she scoffed at it. She had created a character named "Lotus Blossom" who had a whole history that Madeline would somehow be representing in costume.


So this year when she said she wanted to be Cruella DeVille, I was so relieved. A Disney costume! Thank you Madeline! She took it upon herself to find the wig on-line and I procrastinated until 3 days before Halloween to find the rest of the costume. Who would have guessed that there is NO Cruella DeVille wear to be found? Not even a Cruella pattern. I suggested a Dalmatian-patterned scarf. Madeline wanted a lined coat. We compromised with this full-length cape. The red fur was the most awful stuff I've ever worked with. But she was pleased.


Moving on to our more reasonable trick-or-treaters. Here is child who doesn't need to be Lotus Blossom, but is perfectly happy being run-of-the-mill Mulan:

Abby wanted to dye her hair black for the night. I was told by the woman at the costume shop that this spray-on hair color would be easier. NEVER AGAIN!

And the smallest one was Madeline. Not to be confused with her sister, Made"lyn", this is MadeLINE. The little girl from Paris.

They made for an interesting trio. As is always the case in Western Washington, we prayed for no rain. It had rained all day long but stopped in time for trick-or-treating. We did have to deal with our muddy dirt road but at least we didn't need umbrellas. Of which, surprisingly, we have none.

Maya Qiu looks truly stunned by her impressive candy-haul. Note, this is the home of teenage boys. Notice the pumpkin on the porch who they said had eaten too much candy. I have a feeling my teenage boy (this year's candy hander-outer) will be re-creating that at our house next year.

"She was not afraid of mice. She loved winter, snow and ice and to the tigers in the zoo, Madeline just said Pooh Pooh." But the jack-o-lanterns in the window are a little scary.

When the other trick-or-treaters got ahead of her, which was always, Maya would say, "Mom, hold my hat please" and off she'd sprint. I offered to carry her goody bag too, but she hugged it close to her chest and said, "I CAN DO IT MYSELF!" Yikes. This girl knows where her Halloween priorities lie.

And so does her dad, the dentist, who has already helped himself to a large quantity of his children's Halloween bounty.

You're One of Us

Several years ago I visited an elderly great uncle and his wife in California. Uncle Frank was one of my grandfather's 4 brothers. Being with my uncle was as close to being with my grandfather as I'd ever been. Or at least as close as I could remember. My grandfather and grandmother had died along with other family members in a plane crash before my second birthday. Uncle Frank looked like an older version of the pictures I'd seen of my grandfather. I'm sure I'd met Uncle Frank when I was a young girl and lived in California, but it had been many, many years. When Uncle Frank opened the door to the adult woman who'd come to visit, he stood looking at me for just a moment, and then while giving me a warm hug said in my ear, "Oh, sweetheart. I'd have picked you out of a line-up as Glenn's granddaughter. You look just like a Kelley."

Hearing him say that gave me a feeling of happy pride. The pride didn't come because the Kelley's are known for their stunning good looks, and as a matter of fact the largish nose was probably the distinguishing characteristic, but I felt connected to people who I'd never known and felt part of a larger picture. It was weirdly similar to the feeling I had when I got my first varsity tennis team uniform. I put it on and it was obvious to everyone that I was now part of that group. As Uncle Frank said, in a line-up he would have picked me out. He would have said, "Yep, that's one of ours."

When we were in the waiting phase of our adoption I probably saw hundreds of referral pictures, the tiny mug shots that accompany a child's file. Each time I'd think, Could I look at that baby and say, Yep, she's mine? When we finally got our referral, Lyle and I first read through all of the written information that had been e-mailed to us. We knew that her pictures would be at the bottom and I wanted to kind of sneak up on them, casually take her in starting with the tip of her head and then I could work my way down, stopping to process each bit of information. Somehow I scrolled too fast and suddenly there she was--a round-faced, healthy-looking 6 month old, sitting in a walker, jauntily kicking up one little bare foot into the air.

She literally took our breath away. I knew her. It was like looking at the face of a long-lost friend. I would have picked her out of a line-up, I know it. I noticed her beautiful Chinese features, but I also thought she looked like her siblings. I put our 4 kids' baby pictures together and made friends and family humor me by saying that they could see the resemblance too. She so belongs with this group.

Once Maya was told by a little girl in Kinko's that I was NOT her Mommy. The little girl's father was obviously mortified and kept telling her, "No, honey. That is that little girl's Mommy." But his daughter could not be swayed. "No, I KNOW that's not her Mommy." Maya's chin quivered and she pointed to me and said, "Dat my Mommy right dare." For a good week afterward, Maya would tell complete strangers, even before they had a chance to say hello, "Dis is MY Mommy. MY Mommy." She wanted to make sure they knew from the get-go, just in case they didn't happen to notice.

I hope that as she grows older, she'll always feel like she belongs exactly where she is and that she can always find something of herself in the faces around her. It may not be the same stunning effect as the parent/child dental students, but I think Abby said it best when she was in Costco and was told that she didn't look very much like her sister. Abby looked confused and just shrugged her shoulders and answered, "Well, I said we're sisters, not twins."

Risky Behavior on the Weekend

Ever since I publicly stated my dislike for the board game RISK, my kids have been at me. "Do you really hate RISK, Mom?.... Have you given it a chance?... Maybe if you tried it just one more time...."

So, in the name of family fun and unity, our Saturday evening found us in battle formation with the following lines drawn in the sand:

*Eileen's Purple Terror was firmly entrenched in Europe.

*Lyle's Black Plague started in Australia and was prepared to spread northward.

*Adam's Green Machine was spread everywhere and ultimately went nowhere.

*Madeline's Yellow Fever was reaching epidemic proportions in Africa and South America.

*Abby's Blue Goo held the U.S. and was continually battling to stave off the yellow fever.

*And Maya Qiu's Red Spread had a strangle hold on Asia, which we thought was cute.

Adam's Green Machine reportedly had a strategy. Maya's Red Spread had absolutely no strategy. As a matter of fact, the Red Spread did everything wrong, boldly spitting in the face of all military know-how. And yet, looking at this picture, can you guess which army always rolled 5's and 6's, and which army couldn't seem to roll over a 3?

And so very quickly the Green Machine was shaking in its boots and licking its wounds up in its namesake country of Greenland. The Black Plague taunted the Green Machine's battle worn soldiers and in the voice of the Sicilian Vicini sneered, "Un-Emploooyyed in Greeeeenlannd," which seemed poor form.

The Purple Terror absolutely could have taken out the Green Machine, but the Purple Terror was hanging out in the Swiss Alps and wanted everyone to just live in peace and harmony. Against all odds, the Green Machine reved itself up and continued chugging away.

The Red Spread, however was becoming problematic. The Spread was up past its bedtime. Red Spread needed to meet bedspread. Yet anytime her father, Black Plague, would ask the Red Spread if she wanted to quit or keep fighting, the Spread always valiantly yelled, "Keep Fighting!" Because it's fun to roll dice and if you're not rolling dice you might just take your extra pieces and form little families and make up witty dialogue as did the Blue Goo.

The Blue Goo did this because a) the Goo does that type of thing often and b) RISK is really that boring. Besides, the Blue Goo just didn't have a heart for world domination and her troops were dropping like flies to the evils of the Yellow Fever. And no matter how much you dislike the game and wish you were doing something else, it's still sad to lose good men.

The Yellow Fever was ruthless. She killed her victims in horrible agony and then heartlessly tossed them into very colorful plastic graves, mocking their sad demise. Yellow Fever annihilated Blue Goo and began sweeping through the Green Machine. The Black Plague however gave the Fever a taste of her own medicine and the Fever reached a boiling point.

While the Fever was simmering away in South America, the Red Spread was out of control in Asia. The threat of the Spread made the rest of the world nervous and the Green Machine, no longer unemployed in Greenland, fell victim to one of the classic blunders. To once again quote Vicini, "Never get involved in a land war in Asia."

The Purple Terror moved in and finally the Red Spread was defeated. In the end, the once all-powerful ruler whimpered like a baby, sucked her thumb and called out for Mommy. It was a sad display. The leadership of the Purple Terror stepped down and her army was taken over by the fallen commanders of the Green Machine. Purple Terror carried the fallen Red despot upstairs to bed where she repented of her ways and promised to never again wish for world domination.

Meanwhile downstairs the Green Machine fell victim to injury and sickness and the Yellow Fever and Black Plague sneezed and coughed and vomited all over each other until both were so sick and tired they didn't care who ruled the world and they just wanted to go to bed.