Life's Bumps

We didn't have any plans for Memorial day this year other than spend some family time together until I had to work that night.  As to how we'd spend that time together, well, that was anybody's guess.  We asked Bailey what she'd like to do and she wanted to go see dinosaurs..."at the Wonderscope with dinosaurs."  In case that means nothing to you, it meant the Children's Museum in Chattanooga, Tennessee, the one with the big giant room full of dinosaur excavation activities.  We broke the news to her gently that we didn't have time to drive down to Chattanooga for the day, and although she was a little disappointed, a light bulb had gone off in my head.  We hadn't been to the T-Rex restaurant in well over a year, so we went to the Legends in Kansas City.  Bailey was all for seeing dinosaurs and away we went.

We had a fun time and Bailey's only issue with the Legends was that they had a Gymboree Outlet.  This pleased Mommy beyond all imaginations because she had no idea it existed there and well, she's been begging for years to go to the Gymboree Outlets in Florida, Texas, and New York.  Surprisingly, I didn't buy anything.  I was too busy looking at Bailey's pouty face.  She really, really doesn't like that store, even if it is responsible for part of her wardrobe.  That was the only thing she didn't enjoy.  It was a nice Memorial Day.

Something that we discovered while getting ready to go see dinosaurs that day was a bump behind Bailey's ear.

 

 

Actually, Bailey was the one to ask about it and Daddy told her it was supposed to be there.  Fortunately, I heard part of the conversation and looked at it and informed Daddy that it was not supposed to be there.  On Tuesday, I made an appointment to her doctor's office and got her in to a new physician on staff.  Dr. Flint was onvacation, but the new doctor was very nice and Bailey was very helpful and happy to see a qualified doctor.  The doctor couldn't believe how adorable Bailey was and she seemed to like the dress Bailey insisted on wearing.  When Bailey chose it that day, she proclaimed that the doctor, "will love this dress on me."  She was correct.

The doctor's initial guess was a cyst.  She thought it felt like a cyst rather than a lymph node, which  is what I thought it was.  For those who do not know, Bailey's lymph nodes in her neck have been working overtime since early last fall.  We're still trying to find out why her tonsils have been enlarged since then.  Anyway, the doctor didn't think it was a lymph node, but proceeded to look in her ear.  The doctor diagnosed Bailey instantly with a full blown ear infection in her right ear.  She didn't even get that close to her ear by the time she saw how bad it was.  We started Bailey on antibiotics right away and so far Bailey keeps announcing, "the bump is still there.  I don't think the medicine's working yet."

 

It'll take a while.  That's just how the bumps in life are.

Handwashing Techniques

"Bailey, what happened to Fudge's water?"

Fudge's water in her dish was kind of pink and soapy.  I swear I saw bubbles.  It didn't look right.

Bailey's answer: Silence.

 

"Bailey, what happened to Fudge's water?"

 

Bailey's answer: Silence

 

And repeat.  Twice.

 

There was also water on the floor next to Fudge's kennel.  With my motherly detective skills, I put together that Bailey washed her hands with soap IN Fudge's water dish instead of the sink.  She admitted as much without me stating my suspicions to her.  At least the next time I see suds in Fudge's water, I'll instantly know what happened.  Not that it will happen, because we always learn the first time, right.

Well, we wore white again

I don't know what it is about The Farm, but something about it inspires Bailey to wear a white dress.  Maybe she's still thinking about the time we were in Denver and went to a restaurant called The White Fence Farm.  It was pretty awesome and if you're ever in the Denver area, you should definitely check it out.  It's a requirement.  Tourism advertisement aside, Bailey insisted upon wearing white again.  To the farm.

Now if you remember last time, it wasn't pretty.  She took what otherwise would've been a beautiful eyelet dress and turned it into something worthy of nothing more than becoming a rag.  It's amazing what oil on an old tractor can do to a white dress.  So, I expected nothing less from Bailey when she requested another white dress.  Only Bailey would wish to wear a white dress to a farm, because I certainly wouldn't.  And I recall the day we bought this dress at Kohl's because Daddy nor Mommy thought buying it was such a good idea, but Bailey really liked it, and hey, she has her right to pick out her own clothes, right?

 

 

And so on Thursday when she wanted to wear it, I thought quite evilly to myself, "well, at least you'll never have to worry about it again because it's going to be ruined."  I know, what an optimistic attitude I had, and although I made sure we'd avoid any antique tractors with greasy pieces, I just knew we'd find another way to ruin this specific dress.

 

Then when Bailey headed to the big white barn early on in our trip to get some ice cream and soon after chose a fudge pop, I knew we'd found our potential culprit.  If she'd eaten it inside, we might have been just fine. 

But no.  She couldn't stay indoors with the smell of live cows and away from the heat of the sun. 

 

The moment we hit the sun's rays from our park bench that white dress with the yellow flower was doomed.  But Bailey was so cute holding her dress from further being tainted by the drops of fudge.  She tried her best, but the damage was done.  And by that point, she might as well just finish it, even though I took a grudgingly deep breath every time I watched another drop of fudge hit the fabric and hung my head in shame each time another person walked by admiring her cuteness and the messy little fudge face.

 

 

I'm not sure what my problem was though, because it was so darn cute.  And even though my insecure instinct was then to take her immediately back to the car for a quick change, we persisted on and went to do some mining.  There, a nice volunteer at the farm asked me, "What kind of method or detergent do you use to keep that dress so beautifully white?"  My answer?  "We'll see."  She had a puzzled expression as I followed with, "I have no idea.  I guess we'll find out."

 

After mining, we headed out because it was hot.  She wanted to change her clothes after all, and I was okay with that since we had a stop to make.  I did tell her it was okay though.  And if you're wondering, it's white again.  Fudge comes out much easier than oil.  The dress will see another day, and have another chance to be forever stained.  I guess white wasn't such a bad idea, and really, that fudge could've dripped on anything.

Special Delivery

Nobody was more excited than Bailey when that doorbell rang around noon.  Her ecstatic little body was jumping with glee.  And definitely, there was no one more thrilled to see a huge box come through the door, courtesy of Mr. UPS.  It sat for a little bit in our front entryway and when I returned to it, finally ready to get familiar with its contents (which I knew to be items for her birthday party), I noticed it had already been opened.

 

"Bailey, how did the box get opened?"

 

"I did it."   <pause> "With a fork.  With my fork."

 

Who needs knives?

Fudge's Brain

Last Friday, Bailey was supposed to pick up her toys in the living room, and when she didn't, she was banished to her room for a short while.  Fudge ended up going in there too, and I walked by her bedroom and overheard a very interesting conversation.  Bailey was on her bed with Fudge and pointing to an index card and telling Fudge in a very teacher-like way, "This is your brain, Fudge."  I couldn't hear the rest of her explanation, but please know it happened.  And as soon as Bailey realized I was watching, she then suddenly lost her voice and her teaching position.  I have an amazing effect on people.

 

 

 

Then Tuesday, Bailey wanted to make sure I knew Daddy had left a note for me.  On it was that I needed to call the doctor.  I had asked him to leave the note so I would make sure it was one of the first things I did on Tuesday morning.  Bailey was excited that he'd left a note and really, really wanted to know what vital information was on it.  And as intrigued as she was by the message, the note was on the back of her special index card.  Much to her horror, she discovered it and exclaimed with a huge gasp, "Daddy wrote all over Fudge's brain!!"

 

 

I wonder what kind of notes Van Gogh's parents left on the backs of his masterpieces.

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So...what is it?

Grandma and Grandpa came over today just as Bailey had anticipated.  They were supposed to come over on Saturday, but much to her dismay the rain kept them away (which was disappointing because it never actually rained, but we had all feared the heavy storms and those would have interfered with our plans).  But they came over today (hooray!) and made a very special delivery.  Well, Daddy and Grandpa at least left to make that part happen.  The two of them arrived back at the house with three big boxes.  Bailey had no idea what was inside and after a while of working on it, she still doesn't.  Maybe you'll figure it out. 

She loves me

 

"Mommy, I love you...."

 

(Awwww.)

 

"....But I just don't like it when you're shrinking."

 

Everybody Poops

 

 

 

 

 

 

Even snails.

 

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I'd rather just ignore it

...But it's hard when you have a Bailey in the house giving you the play by play.

 

Right now, there is a spider crawling around on the dining room ceiling.  I'd like to pretend he's not there, which would work extremely well if Bailey wasn't in there watching his every move and then relaying it back to me.  She's been concerned for his safety.  She wants to make sure he doesn't get smashed.  So, she'll come find me in the house, announcing that the spider is still okay and unharmed.  I don't take the news as enthusiastically as she does.

 

This is been going on for a while now and I'm sure it will until he crawls his way to North Korea, or wherever his travel destination may be.  Bailey thinks he's having a birthday party like she is (hers isn't until July though) and she thinks it's going to be a spider-themed party with all of his friends.  She thinks his friends are coming here for the party.  They better not be.  This party venue is not equipped for his pesky kind.

 

She's really excited about his party and she says he is too.  I can only imagine.

Okay Then

This just in:

 

"I think I'm getting a headache."  <long pause> 

Followed by:

"Sometimes I squeeze my head and blood comes out of my brain.  I squeeze it out with my hands.  That is disgusting."

Fudge's Gainful Employment

"Why is Fudge eating the rest of your Poptart?"

"Because she's doing her job."

"No, that is not Fudge's job."

 

 

Meanwhile, Fudge is trying to win big with her new boss by doing her job extremely well.

A Broken Kind of Day

Monday left us a bit broken for a while.  I mean, parts of it made it a great day.  It started off well.  We went and babysat for a friend of mine while she went to the hair salon.  Bailey was VERY excited about that.  She remembered my friend's four children quite well and even directed me on how to get to their house.  She was most excited about seeing my friend's daughter Zoe again.  And so we arrived and everything was going perfectly.  Their dog Cooper loved me just as much as before.  My friend's children told me he loves everybody, but I know he loves me most.

 

 

 

Their second dog, Webster, confused Bailey to no end because she couldn't past "No, I think that's just Fudge," which could probably have to do with him indeed being Fudge's brother.  Aside from that, it was a fabulous time.  It was the leaving that proved to hold a few snags.

The circus was in town, so I knew I could eventually get Bailey out of my friend's house.  And once I dangled that proverbial carrot in front of her, she was thrilled to leave and so we were off...until we weren't.  We were backing out of the driveway, and another car was zooming towards us, so I went right back up the driveway for a second because I'm not about to let a car drive through me (and I was convinced the car would've) and then I go back to reverse and something happened.  My stick shift wasn't changing gears, it was literally floating.  The biggest problem with this was that we were downhill and halfway in the middle of the road and had no way to get back up the hill of a driveway out of traffic's way. 

That was totally not cool, let me tell you.  So, my cell phone is literally on blinking-low-battery mode, but I dialed my friend's number anyway since she was inside and there was no way I could get out of my car.  She comes a running to the rescue and we tried to figure out a solution.  Pushing did not work, folks.  Apparently the clutch was still engaged.  Luckily, some nice virile men came to our rescue.  With Bailey safe with Zoe, and my foot on the clutch, the men pushed the car up into the driveway and I dialed Daddy to give him the blessed news.

Within forty minutes (he works out of town) he was at my friend's doorstep.  Meanwhile, Bailey had explored my friend's backyard which included a trampoline and a pond.  And once Daddy arrived, Bailey thought that meant we were now going to the circus that was in town.  Well, that was at 4:30, and it was after 5 at this point.  She was bummed and I felt bad for her, but there wasn't much I could do. 

Daddy took us home and he went back and tinkered with the other car for a bit and rigged a way to drive it until it could be professionally repaired, so we were able to drive it back home.  And fortunately, there was a 7:30 time for the circus.  I couldn't personally take her since I had to work, but Daddy and Bailey went and had a fantastic time, it seemed.  Daddy left out the details, but did leave me with pictures which filled me in on all their wonderful experiences.  It was just a small traveling circus, but they did have elephants and white tigers and cotton candy! 

And although Bailey's always hated cotton candy, I guess she chowed down on this version.  Cotton candy does always taste better at the circus.

 

Something else she did...

 

 

And because you just never know about people, the lady behind Bailey was actually at my work that evening.  I ended up going out of my way to assist her and she was very nice, and so when I saw this picture I was shocked that I had just seen her around 9:15 or so.  It did look like Bailey was in safe hands.  And it made me wonder if that feeling I had in making sure I took care of her was because she had just kept my daughter safe less than thirty minutes prior.  Of course, I didn't know she did, but I did know it was worth the extra effort.  Just something to ponder...

 

 

So, as broken as some parts of the day were, it all ended up working out in the end.  Especially for Bailey.

No Time for a Picnic

When I pick up Bailey from preschool, it's usually a joyous reunion.  She's ready for our next activity.  Other times, I have to talk to her and convince her that it really is time to go, and then she's okay with that.  Then there's the picnic table.

And when she sees me and suddenly makes a dive under the plastic picnic table, I know she's not doing it for a picnic.  No.  When she dives under the picnic table, there's going to be a fight between her and I.  It'll be quite a struggle just to remove from underneath the table, then she'll kick and yell as we're going up the stairs, grabbing for the railing, as at least three times, I have to pry her fingers away from ever so diligently.  We'll make it to the main doors as she holds onto the frame for dear life and finally, finally we'll make it outside where the walk to the car seems to take forever.  And it's still not that easy.  I've long since realized that when she gets like this, I can't just put her in the car because she's like a dog when you want to put it in the bath, all four legs sprawled out blocking the doorway.  She also fights the wrath of the seatbelts.  I'm afraid I'll hurt her when she's like that, so instead, we sit it out on the sidewalk in front of the car and talk about why she does this.  There's never an answer, but someday I hope there will be.

Then there are the times when the weather isn't really sidewalk-friendly, so we sit in the front seat of the car until she's ready to go into her carseat.  I want you to know, it's not like it happens THAT often, but the times it has have left such a lasting impression on me that when I see that picnic table, I kind of resent it.  I dread it.  And ratio wise, it rarely happens, but again, it's kind of difficult to forget when it does.

I don't yell over it.  I just grab her.  And I'm sure some people may wonder why I lunge for her the moment she dives under the table and why I immediately take her up the stairs kicking and screaming, and it's not because she went under the table.  it's because I know the fight that has already begun.  I know it means she's in some form of psychotic mood for whatever unknown reason that has plagued her for the moment.  And it's because I know no amount of coercion is going to work once she does that.  If she doesn't do that, then yeah.  That's easy.  But the table?  I barely stand a chance.

 

Trust me, it's not because she thinks it's time for a picnic.

She keeps the boy waiting

Bailey has been absolutely loving this weather we've been experiencing lately.  She's been busy hunting for snails, worms, and putting on bizarre shows in the back yard.  And while she does these things, she has an audience.  She forces me to watch her perform, but no matter what she's doing, you can look through our fence and see one of her biggest fans sitting on a tree stump watching her.  And he continues watching.

 

Our neighbor's son has been doing this a lot lately in anticipation of her finally noticing him again and interacting.  All the while, she'll just ignore him and play alone in the sand box.  It used to never be a big deal.  Heck, she'd go running to him.  But you know how those girls are.  And so he waits.  And waits.  Just sitting on this stump, quite patiently, observing her until she notices him back.

 

It's most endearing and I admire his patience.  Most of all, I find pride in Bailey's actions and of course, humor.

Imaginative Difficulties

We were on our way home after a fun and busy day and Bailey announces to Daddy and I that her imagination isn't working. 

"I think my brain needs new batteries."

 

I personally think it's working just fine.

A Little Bit of Pee Dust

Today (well, technically yesterday) was just the day for super blog entries.  I should've known it would be when the second we got into the car, ready to go to preschool, she checked under her dress and proudly said she had underwear on.  It was just that kind of day, obviously.  I literally took a couple of the notes whilst driving.  And one of the moments that made it such a blog-worthy day is when we were using the bathroom at Culver's.  We had eaten some custard and then was using the facilities and Bailey always potties alone.  She refuses to have an audience.  But after she goes, I then come inside to help her pull things up or get situated or whatever and she announced she still had to flush.  In the toilet was urine and then what looked like remnants of green poo.  I know that's a bit too much of a visual for you fine folks, but I'll make it up to you someday.  Anyway, so Bailey casually goes to flush it and tells me, "it's pee dust." 

I wonder if it's anything like what fairies sprinkle...

She is NOT Hannibal Lector

I repeat, she is NOT Hannibal Lector.

 

If you had overheard me today in a parking lot, shortly after exiting Bed, Bath and Beyond, you would have heard me say this exact phrase, "You are not Hannibal Lector."  It was then followed by, "I know you don't know who that is, but you're not him and we do not eat human flesh."

Now why would I say such a thing to a three year old?  I'll tell you why.  Because as I've stated before, we do not promote cannibalism in this household.  And even though that is the case, that did not stop my child from pretending to try to eat my face and ears and anything else she could try to sink some teeth into.  She thought this zombie-like cannibalistic behavior was funny, and it probably would be, if it wasn't happening to me.  I just wish she was this vigorous with actual food, like the kind normal people serve on plates.

Get some clothes on, Mister

We were driving to Lawrence today and as we drove into town, I hear from the back seat, "Hey!  That guy needs to put some clothes on."  I had to look back to see what she was seeing.  I was a little fearful since we were after all in Lawrence and who knows what she might be viewing in such a liberated community.  I'm only sort of kidding.

So I glance back and there's this man on a bicycle with no shirt and only a pair of shorts, just bicycling away.  Bailey repeats, "That guy doesn't have any clothes on."  I agree with her about his missing shirt and she added, "and shoes."  Apparently, he was missing shoes as well, but I can't confirm that.  I didn't see that much of him.  I do find it funny though that Bailey is so used to everybody wearing a full outfit that she didn't know what to think about a guy without a shirt.  She seemed concerned.  Perhaps with good reason?

 

I hope he was at least wearing sunscreen.

She's not beautiful.

Don't look at me like that.  From Bailey's mouth, she told me she's not beautiful.

 

She was glammed up in a hat, sunglasses, jewelry and a tutu galore, courtesy of her dress up trunk and I told her she was dashing.  She asked me what that meant and I gave her a variation of words and she commented, "you mean beautiful?"  And I agreed and that's when she made the startling statement. 

 

I disagreed with her, of course.  But she would have none of that.

 

"No, I'm just pretty cute."

 

I guess we'll just agree to disagree.

I gave birth to Spiderman

Or Spidergirl in this case.

 

She has some super powers, that child, and sometimes I believe it's possible that she's part spider, or at least can walk up walls; because I returned to the deck after being inside for a mere seconds to find my child staring at me from the OTHER side of the railing.  And if you have no clue what this means, this means she was on the OTHER side of the railing.  Okay, so THAT means she climbed up the lattice work.  ALL the way up.

And I'd like to tell you this is the first time we've had to get after her for such an act, but at the speed she climbed down and the fear in her eyes for being caught doing it, I assure you it wasn't at all.  Just hopefully it is indeed the last time.

Creativity in time for Mother's Day

Bailey signed each of her cards for Mother's Day this year;  rather, she was forced.  And in each card, she exhibited that mind of her own I'm truly fond of.  She also introduced me to things I never knew.

 

 

She told me this (as in the one on the left) is the Japanese letter B.  I had my own doubts, but it's not like I speak Japanese, so who am I to judge?

She then added to that Japanese B and said they were bones.  I think that was her way of subtly telling me she was tired of writing in these cards and was grateful it was her last one.  But really, I think her natural creativity is absolutely fabulous and the best Mother's Day gift ever.  And I mean EVER.

Because really, who wouldn't want a card with bones in it?  The best things in life were made from blood, sweat and tears.  A card with bones?  Now that took skill.

And skill she most definitely has.  Happy Mother's Day to all.

 

This is why we rarely wear white...

 

It's a beautiful dress isn't it?

 

Well, it was.  Until yesterday.

Yesterday after preschool, we went to the farm. 

Yes, I know. 

"Why did you let her wear white to a farm?"

 

 

  I know.  I mean, they have muddy piggies!

 

 

But I didn't let her.  She insisted.  You see dear readers of this blog, my Bailey picks out her own clothing and she wanted to wear THIS dress to the farm.  She thought the goats would think it's pretty.  She probably wasn't mistaken.

But it wasn't all of the dirty livestock that did it.  Although they most likely could've.

 

And even though we did do some mining, it wasn't that either.

Although, that can be a bit messy.

 

Bailey climbed on this old machinery, something she did with Daddy and I last weekend.  And as she was climbing, I saw the stains, the horrifying stains.  I was hoping it'd been peanut butter from lunch.  I blamed the peanut butter.  But some overly helpful, yet obnoxious brat of a boy child says to me, "that's not peanut butter.  That's oil."  I slightly glared while I thought adamantly to myself, "please let that be peanut butter."  But deep down, I knew it wasn't peanut butter.  I knew.  Peanut butter would be far too easy to remove from the fabric.

 

 

No, it was this piece of evil farm equipment that did this poor dress in.  And this morning when she chose this specific dress to wear, I did think silently to myself in all my optimism, "this is probably the last time she'll wear this dress," even though it was brand new, as in, she'd never worn it before today, as in, she'll probably never wear it again.  I'll still try to save it though.  I like lost causes.

While it annoyed me fervently that the dress was ruined, I needed to just relax and further enjoy the lovely weather the day had given me.  I needed to enjoy the "beautiful" flowers growing throughout the grass.  Bailey stopped to pick some and gave them to me as a gift.  She requested that I save them.

And besides, the dress did have an issue that bugged me.  To look at it, you'd swear she had it on backwards, but it wasn't.  Was it flawed or just poorly designed?  I will never know.  But it's okay to pick at its flaws at this point.

 

 

See.  This looks like it should be the front of the dress, but the tag states otherwise.

 

 

 

I think next time, we'll wear some black like this cat.  That way, when we do some climbing, it won't matter.  That cat was certainly thinking when he/she dressed herself for the day.

 

Looking back, everything was as it should be.  Bailey had a fabulous time.  That's all that really matters.

 

Fresh from the Hospital

Bailey's playing with a pink platypus right now in her doll stroller that really seems to be more for her stuffed animals.  She showed me her pink platypus and told me, "I just got her from the store, I mean the hospital.  The doctor squeezed all of the juice out of her, the pink juice.  That's what he did.  And then he gave her some pink medicine because babies just loooove their medicine."

 

And as for the juicing you would've had to have been around last summer when Bailey became obsessed with my friend's pregnancy and the idea that she too was once in my tummy.  (Which I know I've never typed about before, but that has been due to my own self control over the matter.  I've always been far too busy laughing hysterically to get to a keyboard.) We then got out all of her baby pictures, including the ones in utero and from the hospital.  There is this picture when she was fresh out of my stomach and on the scale, and next to the scale is a bunch of wires and cords and she interpreted that into the juicing mechanism.  I have always been too busy holding back laughter to ever correct her since. 

My Conversation with a Lollipop

Sometimes in life you literally need to stop and smell the roses, branch out and meet new people and start up conversations that perhaps you wouldn't have always had the courage to have.  Today was one of those days for me and I took the effort to engage in a conversation with a lollipop during 435 afternoon traffic.

No, I have not lost my mind, thank-you-very-much.

Today, I had the privilege of talking to Fudge the Lollipop.  We started out with something in common right away since we have a dog named Fudge, courtesy of my daughter Bailey.  The Lollipop was quite impressed with Bailey's name choice.  I agreed with Fudge the Lollipop.

Fudge the Lollipop also has a dog.  His dog's name is Dubbyel, pronounced Dubyull.  I was intrigued by such a name.  He asked if my Bailey has a cat.  I told him she does and he asked our cat's name.  He too has a feline friend.  His cat's name is Nammy.  Our talk went on for a while until he fell from Bailey's lap onto the floorboard of the car.  Bailey apologized for her part in disturbing our little moment.

Our conversation was quite besotting and I'm afraid if it wasn't for my Bailey I probably would never have had the opportunity for such a chat.

She's Wearing Underwear

We were going for pizza this evening per Bailey's request.  Daddy had her strapped in the car and he was getting ready to start the car and Bailey announces, "Look Daddy, I'm wearing underwear."  He seemed a little taken back by this service announcement.  He answered, "That's good."  I silently giggled to myself and quickly mentioned thereafter that I have some blog entries to later share.

Well, Daddy has now officially heard about yesterday morning's discovery and I think he understands fully the importance of Bailey's evening observation and why this was worth sharing.  Underwear are definitely a good thing.

Going Commando

It was a school morning.  Wednesdays usually are.  Bailey got herself ready and I was buckling her in her car seat and she looks up at me with this awkward expression on her face, had my eyes follow hers down and adds an "oops."  Something was missing.  Underwear were missing.  She says to me, "that just doesn't feel right."

 

Never fear.  Mommy had an extra pair (actually three extra pairs) in the always-be-prepared-bag that stays rightly-so in the car.  With one swift move, underwear were on and away we went.

 

She did let me know however that Jackson at school doesn't wear underwear.  I don't know if I believe it and I did let her know we won't be talking about that anymore, to which she responded, "all right."  Some things I just don't want to know either way, and perhaps in the future, we'll be doing "spot checks."

Extreme Ballet

 

Bailey's taken the art of ballet and turned it into an extreme sport, full of hard kicks, jedi tricks, and flying hair.  It's quite poetic if you ask her parents. 

 

 

 

There are karate moves.

 

 

Some interpretative dance elements.

 

And sometimes some meditation.

 

 

It's how I imagine Princess Leia as a ballerina.

 

 

These photos were all taken on Friday evening.

Margarita Monday

Or is it more like...Muddy Monday?

 

 

Perhaps this is what everything looks like after too many margaritas?  No, I assure you no alcohol was involved today.  And if you think that looks like mud on her dress, that's actually Kaitlin's fur...

Because Miss Mud was especially careful to not get anything on her dress.

 

She proved you can play in the mud without getting dirty.  I was impressed.  And as for those margaritas I promised you...

 

 

We didn't even need alcohol in them to have a good time.  And this is her class celebrating the holiday last Thursday:

 

 

Happy Cinco de Mayo!

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It's a bad, bad word

Well, Bailey knows a bad word.  She confessed Saturday afternoon while watching Toy Story 2.  Now, I didn't think a Disney/ Pixar flick would instigate foul language, but apparently I was wrong.  This was the first time such a thing has happened to us.  We clearly were not prepared.

Bailey announced in the most sincere and innocent voice, "'Yard Sale.' That's a bad word."  And if you know the movie, you'd understand.  As for Mommy and Daddy, they couldn't help but laugh because for toys and children, that is most definitely a bad word, indeed.

Blood Bath

Bailey's bath water was full of red and she showed us her hands and told us, "look, it's bloody!"

She was surprisingly giddy about that.  Perhaps shock played a role, or just the color tab Daddy let her put in her water.

 

And this isn't the first time she's had a blood bath, nor will it be her last, I'm sure.  This probably won't be the last time she'll be a bit morbid either.  Just look at her parents.

Chicka Chicka New Book

Bailey told me on Thursday that Daddy read her a new book, Chicka Chicka Boom Boom.  I most likely gave her a raised eyebrow because that book is hardly new.  It survived my teaching days and at one point in her little busy life, she went through a phase of it being her favorite, at least once.  Apparently she's in another phase of it.

 

That'd explain why she has it memorized and can tell you all about the coconut tree and Black Eyed P.  And maybe that's a bunch of mumbo jumbo for you, but you should just read the book.  It's delightful, especially if you have the attention span of a wee child, or are in fact a wee child.

 

Talking to Daddy that evening, he told me she was excited to discover it on the book shelf and his experience involved her announcing, "I haven't read this book in FIVE YEARS!"

 

So, she's only almost four...but I didn't even know she could read.

 

So whether it's been five years, in the womb, or it's brand new, Chicka Chicka Boom Boom is back.  But it'll have to share bedtime with Wacky Wednesday because she's still demanding that one too.

The Dish Ride

Ever since our trip to Disney World, everything in life has become a ride or somehow is incorporated with Disney World.  We go on daily rides in the backyard, pirate rides, boat rides, scary rides.  In the car, most of the time we're fighting off scary aliens in our own portable Buzz Lightyear ride, zapping monsters of all shapes and sizes.  Let me tell you, I'm just thrilled to pretend to shoot a gun alongside my daughter.

 

And at night, Daddy and Bailey have their own sculpted routine of epic proportions.  I'm gone most of the time during evenings, so they are the divine duo, a force to be reckoned with or something.  Part of their fantastic routine is fighting off dishes, rather cleaning them.  She helps him load the dishwasher and her most important task is to put in the "soap," a.k.a. the Electrasol gel pac.

 

Tonight, I witnessed them do this with ease and she informed me the dishes were at Disney World and this is the "Dish Ride."  I bet the dishes are having a ton of fun.  The perfect family vacation for all dishes.

 

I thank Disney for turning dish washing into a family fun event.

They Killed Her Pet Donkey

For Cinco de Mayo, we bought Bailey a donkey.  Isn't that what every parent gets their child for the Mexican celebration?

 

Well, we gave it to her early and today, her classmates killed it.  At least that's Bailey's version of events.

 

I tried explaining to her that is what happens to a pinata.  And she should know this.  That kid has this firm belief that a party isn't a party without a pinata.

 

"But it was my pet donkey."

 

But she's over it and in all actuality, she enjoyed every minute of its beating, especially the guts which tasted a lot like fruit snacks, nachos, and lollipops.

 

Her donkey might be dead now, but aren't those the best pets?