Thursday, May 28, 2009

The Princess

Fashion Police:

LP: "Dat shirt, Megan!"

Me: "What about the shirt?"

LP: "Dat shirt purple!"

Apparently she does not approve of me being out of uniform.

A brief respite from cynical adulthood:

Kitty was watching LP. They were tickling each other. It is their common bond. I came to relieve Kitty and instead got pulled into the tickle-fest.

Joy. I'd almost forgotten what it felt like to be purely, un-self-consciously joyful.

Kid, you are just too stinkin' cute:

Mom has been sick for the past few days, but was well enough this evening to go out with Dad. (Because it's May 28.) So I gave the Princess her bath after dinner.

After being scrubbed (we had pizza for dinner), Princess decided to do what the childhood development experts call "imaginative play" (and I call "the cute, it will kill me!"). The washcloth was a "bank" ("blanket," for the uninitiated) and the little plastic walrus was a baby. The baby was wrapped up in the blanket and rocked. Then, or so I was told, the baby began to cry. Princess decided that the little walrus' tears were from exhaustion and put him to bed in her plastic toy boat. She then admonished him to "Close eyes." He apparently did, and she kissed him goodnight.

Bonus Quote of the Day:

"I kiss shish!"

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