girl wil be boy

They play in the Meadow. The dancing girl with the dark hair and blue eyes. The boy with blond curls and gray eyes, struggling to keep up with her on his chubby toddler legs. It took five, ten, fifteen years for me to agree. But Peeta wanted them so badly. When I first felt her stirring inside of me, I was consumed with a terror that felt as old as life itself. Only the joy of holding her in my arms could tame it. Carrying him was a little easier, but not much.

The questions are just beginning. The arenas have been completely destroyed, the memorials built, there are no more Hunger Games. But they teach about them at school, and the girl knows we played a role in them. The boy wil know in a few years. How can I tel them about that world without frightening them to death? My children, who take the words of the song for granted:

Deep in the meadow, under the willow, a bed of grass, a soft green pillow
Lay down your head, and close your sleepy eyes
And when again they open, the sun will rise.
Here it’s safe, here it’s warm
Here the daisies guard you from every harm
Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true
Here is the place where I love you.

Happy mothers day, Katniss Everdeen. I know that in some headcanon young adult literature universe, you’re teaching your son how to shoot a bow & arrow in the woods and showing your daughter the difference between plants. I know that you’re being the best mother you can be.