My Caped Crusader Daughter
In daily life, my three-year-old daughter masquerades as mild-mannered daycare attendee Cornucopia ("Corny") Boadicea Nishikawa. However, in the realm of the super heroes she is none other than Petri the Dish, the svelte bio war hero who is not uncommonly cruising through the stratosphere in the Tokyo-Yokohama area, always garbed in Italian fashion apparel from the house of Tony Perotti.
Her aerial activities not infrequently cause consternation to American warriors manning the screens of the war radar system which the United States operates in our vicinity. However, these activities have never yet provoked a nuclear launch.
Petri's self-appointed mission is to troll through the human community, to find diseases which are circulating in the generate population, and then to culture them in her own body until they produce symptoms crude enough to be evident to the average doctor.
She then reports sick so the results of her latest scientific investigations can be delivered to the nearest appropriate hospital or clinic.
Today we were at the Diseased Kids And Infectious Infants Outpatient Plague Post at Myorenji, a short train station away. Petri had a fever of 37.7 Centigrade plus a runny nose and a cough.
By evening, she had a significantly higher fever, was vomiting monotonously, and was testing three of her superpowers: the Scream of Death, the Wail of Despairing Lament and the Filibuster, the last being a flexible talent which allows her to maintain any complaint, demand or grizzle indefinitely.
I found this wearing and suggested to my wife that perhaps we have been too gentle with Corny when it comes to discipline. "Maybe," I said, "she would benefit from a Boot Camp year, a year in the structured and disciplined environment of a Chinese brick kiln."
My wife told me she would get back to me on this idea.