Midgardian small ones grow up so quickly. But then again, their lives are so short, that I suppose they must rush. They also take great note of the anniversaries of their entering the world. Such a fuss for a swarm of mayflies.
The small son of the human female’s knittery friend is having a birthday today. Sigyn would like to attend, since the knittery friend has been kind to her. She also wants me to go with her, since there will be a number of people there and she is feeling a bit shy. Dearest, must we? The mortals are driving to attend the festivities, and two hours cooped up in the car with their nattering and execrable taste in music would be enough to drive a saint to murder, and I am no saint.
Sigyn has been known to become a little queasy when we teleport. Thus, a compromise between the slow, nattering, strangling way and and the fast, nauseated Sigyn way.
Um, my sweetling, while I commend and admire your bravery, would it not be better for you to join me in the cockpit?
<later> We encountered some turbulence on the way here, but it was still better than either alternative. We have arrived, so now the party can commence!
The knittery friend has created a themed cake for the birthday child. I have improved it with my presence. Neither small game-piece monsters nor six year old Midgardians are half so terrifying as Loki!
<still later> The Midgardians and their boardgames! They seem to play them at every opportunity. Today’s boxed chaos is called "Rhino Hero."
Hero? Snort! Rhinos are notoriously weak-minded, and it was the work of a moment to suborn him to my cause. Welcome, Caped Ceratomorph!