It's Narnia business why I'm dressed as a lion

On the very rare occasions when it does happen, I have to swallow my pride and admit when I've brought trouble upon myself.  I do contend, however, that the lion's share of the blame still rests with Erin. Several years ago, I was lured into confiding my ferocious aversion to the month of March with her. No matter what you call it ("cabin fever," "the winter blues," or "Seasonal Affect Disorder"), March, for me, triggers VERY strong feelings of repressed rage, inner loathing, sedentary sloth, emotional eating, wearisome worries, and a desperate need to isolate. So as I prepare to go fetal, Erin prepares a fiesta. Hence, Amy & Erin's March Madness was born. 

This year, I decided to go fur it and grab this situation by the tail before it became too wild. As we brainstormed, I MAY have mentioned how March is associated with lions and lambs when BOOM! Suddenly, I found myself wrapped in warm plush and tossed to the wolves. I knew immediately that things were not going well when a first grader, exiting the bus, pointed at me and shouted, "Look! A bear!" I growled as the sweet slender sheep beside me giggled and capered about, easily identifiable and immediately adored. Erin made the children laugh and play to see a lamb in the bus loop.

Accompanied by my faithful 4th grade friend, Callie, I wound my way back to Erin's room to deliver the
morning announcements. Snarling, I glared as small hands reached out to stroke my soft fur or risked life and limb by grabbing my tail. "No, she is NOT a teddy bear," Callie clarified, gently wrangling the herd of small humans out of my way. "Mrs. Mosiman," she said sternly as I kept roaring, "you have to stop scaring the kids." 

Lunchtime wasn't much better as I made my rounds of the cafeteria, stalking my prey to capture cucumber rounds, fun-sized Snicker bars, and string cheese. I high-pawed pint-sized pupils, tickled tummies, and booped noses before escaping that zoo. 

But then...magic.

Every year, Room 24 reads C.S. Lewis's "The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe." We draw the destinations. We spend weeks walking across the map to reach Cair Paravel. We explore Greek mythology connections. We despise Edmund until suddenly we don't despise Edmund. We nibble on Turkish Delight. We read on the rug beneath a revolving light of sparkling stars. And then the day...the magical day...when the story was read by A FREAKING LION!!! 

So yeah...I feel a little sheepish admitting this but TOTALLY WORTH IT! Suffocating all day in that sweaty lion suit, being ceaselessly pawed at, ridiculed by my peers...I would do it again in two shakes of a lion's tail. C.S. Lewis certainly needs no help from me to improve the Chronicles of Narnia. I am enchanted and transported, year after year after year. My silly lessons are merely the sides to the meat of the meal. C. S. Lewis provides the prime rib while I flounder to deliver a three-bean salad and room temperature fries. But that Friday in March, I managed to serve up piping hot homemade mac-and-cheese with that crispy topping. (Notice I avoided a Chinese food comparison. What lion would want low mane!?!)