Adventures in Pink; in which Mama tells some stories about Little Miss
Since Little Miss’s birth, she has been a joy to our family–effortlessly capturing our hearts (and the hearts of many others) with her charms. Her large blue eyes, wide with excitement and framed with long lashes, have melted many a tense moment; her sweet, tiny voice and contagious belly laughs draw all of us into her world of delight.
Often it doesn’t matter what she says, because her mannerisms are adorable enough. But there is plenty of cute content besides.
Me: Little Miss, let’s make a list of what we need at Costco. Eggs, sugar, …what else?
Little Miss: Um, samples. (pronounced “SAM-pohs”)
Act-shally, I like sam-pohs. If we don’t have sam-pohs, I’ll be really SAD!
As has been mentioned here before, the children put a lot of emphasis on the importance of colors. Tiern must like anything that is red, simply because it is red. Often, a blue bath towel is unacceptable for use because it must belong to Dadoo. There is already speculation about what Dood Locka’s favorite color will be. And of course, the cat and dog have been assigned their particular colors (green and orange, in case you’re wondering). Likewise, Little Miss’s preference for pink is never forgotten. For her birthday, she requested a Pink Cake.
“Ok,” I replied. “I think I can make–”
Little Miss interrupted, “–from the Liquor Store!”
We’re not sure where she came up with the idea that pink cakes are found in liquor stores, but the liquor store we use is located below our regular grocery store, where she has followed the heavily-frosted bakery cakes with longing eyes. Perhaps she thinks the Liquor Store encompasses both establishments?
Although not from the liquor store, there was a recipe with a cute story behind it, and I was pleased with the resulting Pink Cake:
Add to this the beautiful cupcakes from Miss Chuff that Dadoo showed a few posts ago, and we had one very happy 3 year-old.
She is still enamored with Michael from Peter Pan, the Disney version of whom wears pink pajamas. Yesterday, I helped her put on her own pink pajamas after a bath. Down at eye level with her, I cupped her face in my hands and asked, “Are you my girl?”
Her eyes widened as she matched my intensity of feeling, placing her hands on my cheeks and answering, “Um, no. I’m Michael.”
She still does not like to go to bed early, and while we do our best to enforce an early bedtime, this is often the scenario that plays out:
“Miss, it’s time to brush teeth!”
“I don’t want to brush teeth.” (she understands this is the pre-bedtime routine) “I want to finish my dinner.”
Little Miss’s godparents live in a different state, but we keep in close contact with them, and they are always asking about her recent favorites. For her birthday, her godmother asked me, “What is Little Miss into these days? Is there anything she especially needs?”
“Well,” I responded. “I don’t think she really needs anything. She’s starting to play more with her kitchen. And she does like pink…”
“Oh, really.” This statement was made in a knowing, conspiratorial tone. After all, Godmother has three little girls of her own.
Today, a package arrived in the mail.
Aside… Dear Mr. UPS Man: I am genuinely curious. The dog’s incessant barking since your truck stopped out front only became louder and more earnest when you ascended our porch steps. Was anyone in the neighborhood possibly unaware of your presence? So I’m wondering, why did you find it necessary to lightly tap on the door before making your hasty retreat? I don’t mind. I just find it somewhat amusing….
Tiern and Little Miss took some time popping the plastic bubbles.
In Tiern’s words, a puff-tick gift.