Lizzyisms

Sorry, folks. You can't go more than two or three posts without them.

This is how our weekday mornings go, or at least, this part: We pluck Lizzy out of bed (my bed, since that's where she migrates at about 3:30 a.m.), still sleeping, and fling her in the car and peel out in a whirl of dust. After we buckle her in, of course. So I have to select and remember to take her outfit for the day with us.
I know what she likes and doesn't like by now. She's generally a tomboy -- her favorite t-shirts are a black one that says "Power Tots," which refers to her day care gymnastics class, and a tie-dye one that I picked up from a D.C. street vendor because she fell in love with boyfriend Ethan's tie-dye shirt that his mommy very kindly let us borrow one time after we'd bathed her at the Doan house.

So she's really stylin', as you can imagine. She has one or two dresses that she LOVES -- I think she rates her dresses on twirlability. The farther they flare out when she twirls, the more she likes them -- but they are summer dresses, and totally inappropriate for this time of year. I knew I'd get a battle today if I grabbed one of MY favorite Lizzy dresses, but I did so, anyway. Hey. Those clothes are too expensive and cute to hang in the closet all the time, or even to be confined to church wear. So when we got to day care -- I park on the street, then commence changing her in the car where God and everyone can see and be amused -- she threw a FIT when I tried to remove her tie-dye shirt, in which she slept, to put on this adorable dress. What makes this story (barely) worth telling was what she shrieked while she flailed and cried as I yanked it on: "I don't want to be pretty!" And I hadn't said a word, besides, "You WILL wear this dress today." I think she was anticipating my next argument. ("But Lizzy! You'll look so pretty in this dress!") I'm not entirely comfortable with appealing to her vanity to get her to do stuff I want, but it's often an effective measure, and effectiveness, far too often, dictates which measure is employed.
Last night we got her hair cut. She was really good! It's such a cute scene, her in the Bubbles stylist's chair, all but her wee blond head encased in a cape. She was making cutesy faces at herself in the mirror. I guess she felt like being pretty THEN.

She likes to make tea and dinner for her daddy and me. She made me some tea the other night, and of course, I have to pretend it's delicious. It is amazing how air can taste good, if you put your mind to it. I said, "Oh, Lizzy! This is simply delicious! Is it jasmine tea?" She replied, "No, silly. It's Cinderella tea." I'll try to guess better next time.

I have witnesses for this last one: On Monday morning, she and I attended our friend Dee's workout class for mommies and kids. Lizzy wasn't that into it, to say the least. She made a cute little anchor on my leg while I tried to work out. I finally talked her into sitting on the floor for most of it. It's a testament to Dee's awesome class leadership skills -- it was such a great session!Gave us mommies a great workout, and heavily involved the kids -- that she was able to carry on with stitches in her foot. With some demonstration help from our friend.

After class, we three mommies, one daddy and three kiddos went to Burger King so the wee ones could romp on the play place inside. It looked like fun. Lizzy decided she couldn't get up to the level of the slide without my help, and I decided I wouldn't help her, so we had some more unfortunate loud wailing. Eventually, though, she chilled out a little and took to lounging down at the bottom of the slide, waiting for Ethan to return from his Spider-Boy exploits above. She even called out encouragement.
"I'm waiting for you, Big Boy!"
In a classic bit of timing, one of the mommies teased me by saying, "Hm -- I wonder what Lizzy's hearing at home!"
Ayyyyyy.