My five year old daughter wanted to play make believe this morning.

We skipped from playing house where she was the Mommy named Rose-Marina and I was the Daddy, Rosacea, to playing school where she was the teacher, Rosalinda and I was her student, Roseanna. Finally, she was the store clerk Rosita and I was the cat Roseola.

When she grew tired of the game or perhaps ran out of names beginning with Rose, she dragged a plastic table and two chairs out of the playroom and said we were now going out on a date. She was the girl, Roseabella and I was the boy, Roseron.

The sixteen month old always ends up playing the house pet, the evil step someone or other, or just a piece of mobile furniture and is never, ever assigned a name beginning with Rose.

I asked Roseabella what we were going to do on our date and she explained we would be eating at a restaurant as though I had never heard of the concept of a date and should have known that is what people with the prefix Rose do when dating.

Me: So Roseabella, where do you go to school?

Roseabella: I do not go to school you realize. (speaking with a middle Eastern accent) I am on a date which means I am thirty.

A solid answer.

Roseron: What do you think we should order to eat?

Roseabella now with an interesting quasi English accent: Cheerios and corn.

Food of champions.

When it came time to pay, Roseabella insisted she pick up the tab. I had really gotten into my character and had decided early on Roseron was a freeloader and leapt at the chance to dine on free Cheerios and warm corn.

Roseabella quickly shifted gears and using the treadmill as her cashier’s check-out with the computer as the till she charged herself $2.02 for the C&C combos but an additional $4.03 for use of the sink/soap dispenser to wash our hands.

There was no awkward hand-shake at the end of what was obviously a low-point in Roseabella’s dating career and she couldn’t wait to shake this guy.

I suspect Roseabella’s friend (Rosencrantz) who set up the two was about to get a tongue lashing.