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.
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!
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.
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.
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.
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.
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?
