Boy and Girl are wrestling on the bed. Girl is trying to shove her foot into Boy’s face.

“Come on ya’ll, let’s play Barbies,” I say. I have just turned off the TV, shamed by a recent trip to the pediatrician’s office. Examining Girl for a check-up, the doctor said, “And she watches TV for no more than one or two hours a day, right?” I mumbled an answer. I should have said, “Yes, not counting SpongeBob.”

So now, with no TV, they have reverted to the wild animal state, which I am trying to tamp down with a few of the million toys they own.

“She won’t wake up! She’s under an evil spell!” I say, grabbing the Barbie that looks like Sleeping Beauty. That gets their attention.

“It was Ken. He’s evil,” Boy says. Ken takes off in the pink convertible Barbie car, which can now fly like a Star Wars pod racer. “Pretend he cut his little brother.”

“He cut him?” I say.

“Yeah, he’s evil,” Boy says.

“We gotta take care of the little brother. Make him some chicken soup,” Girl says.

Now Ken’s riding toward the Barbie house on the back of a two-foot tall T-rex.

“Have Ken’s girlfriend come out and get him,” Boy says. “She knows karate.” He pronounces it KAH-RAH-TAY.

Now Ken’s back in the pink pod-racer and he suffers a horrible crash. “They feel sorry for him now. They all surround the car. His girlfriend pushes everyone else away. KEN! KEN!” Boy says.

In a huddle of blond hair, the Barbies carry Ken to the Barbie house, which is now a hospital. Girl operates as the chef Barbie transforms into Dr. Barbie. Ken makes a remarkable recovery. Boy tells Girl, “Go get me the T-Rex.”

As she walks by him to get the toy dinosaur, he trips her and she cries.

Back to square one.