In honor of Father's Day, do you suppose any of your multitudes of children have something planned for you, good or ill? (I ask because I saw a very large dog and very larger snake squabbling over whether to say the barnacle-caked shipwreck full of Nordic loot was from both of them or to take individual credit. Ship = snake, Impressively huge tree = pup) ((Also there may or may not have been an army of redheaded kids trying to fit a finger-painted card the size of a small country in a mailbox))
Ah, sounds like some of the >nonuplets and some of the original brood, yes they came around last night and Joshua is currently fending off historians from taking my ship with a stick. At least that’s what I hope he’s doing, unless the historians have snatched the stick already. Or he went off to tip Marek 45% on a Frappucino. No reliable unpaid workforce these days anymore.
Matter of the thing is, I try not to celebrate any of the regular holidays because for one, calendars and I have an on-going feud (The calendars started it, but it’s very personal and slightly sexual in nature and I won’t get into detail). Furthermore, I simply have too many children to spend a single day with all of them because…let’s say none of us cope very well with receiving divided attention so even if I divide it by region and spend different days dedicated to honouring your parents or one parent of a particular gender, it gets messy. Sharing food, adoration or chairs around a table while under the influence of alcohol not part of our not-genetic not-code. And since I can only be in so many places at once (12 to be exact, unless one of them is a bicycle shop and I’m very determined, such are the rules of chaos) usually I prefer to spend individual days with them that have personal meaning like the days of their birth, their naming, their teething, days of religious significance, days of personal significance, Saturdays, the days of their wedding or – since some of them were mortal and crossed over into Hel’s realm or are in fact Hel – the day of their deaths. Also, they tend to live all over the Nine Realms and times works differently in different places and some of them don’t have means of transport and you can’t just uber over to Midgard from Muspelheim. Takes Ages and Ratatösk isn’t the best driver. Keeps totalling against the same tree.
But another vital part of the make-up of a proper Lokisbarn is – aside from contouring sharp enough to peel an apple on – that we don’t really like being told not to go somewhere. So when I tell them not to, they see it as a challenge to visit me (not that I would ever do that on purpose 😉 ) so the Starbucks in currently drowning a bit in strange inter-Yggdrasilian visitors, all kinds of devotionals etc. greetings written on paper, wood, carved into stone-plates, carrier pigeons, faxes, painted vases, painted turtles and all other means of communication. It’s a bit of a mess and neither Marek nor the guys sorting things into bags labelled ‘biohazard’ appreciate my children’s thoughtful gifts as much as they should.
So yes, things went a bit out of hand with my kin that did come to visit in person but really, I spend most of the night with Fenrir. It’s been a while since him not being chained somewhere for all eternity didn’t coincide with me being chained somewhere for all eternity so some frolicking in the forests and hunting together and disrupting traffic on motorways and stealing watermelons occurred.
In other news, Sleipnir contributed a wonderful song and learnt to play the guitar for the occasion.