A Nap Time Conversation About Royalty, In Which I Meet My Match While Tiny Brains Conspire Against Us

This is a recent conversation/battle of wit that my boyfriend and I recently had. Most of it is accurate, according to my memory. I think.

Me: Sometimes I wish I was a pretty pretty Princess.
Boyfriend: You are a pretty pretty Princess.
Me: I don't have any subjects.
Boyfriend: Don't be ridiculous, you have Norm and Tilly*
Me: Oh! Yes! I rule them with an iron fist!
<raises iron fist triumphantly, then, turning to him with an inexplicably demonic grin>
Me: And you are my Prince.
Boyfriend: Yes.
<momentarily satisfied, there is a brief silence>
Me: My Prince?
Boyfriend: Yes, my sweet?
Me: How many, um… <searching for word>
Boyfriend <helpfully>: ...Princes do you get?
<in a fit of uncontrollable laughter, I respectfully concede defeat; Boyfriend raises iron fist in victory; fade to blackout..>


*My subjects, who may or may not be hatching a coup in their tiny, tiny brains: