Strange little girl...

Quiet Time recently has consisted of Mabes dressing up and either dancing to The Nutcracker or re-enacting Cinderella. Who knew she'd be such a girly girl? Up until 2 months ago, I thought I had a total tomboy. But after ballerinas or princesses get boring, she plays trains, builds things, reads books, etc., and comes out every so often to tell me what she's doing.

Last week, Mabes comes running into the family room. "Mommy! I found a bucket!" Yeah, I know, it's been there for a while--go back to your room. "I made a bucket like the man at Hee Teeter!" (Harris Teeter, our grocery store, for the non-Southerners) Uh-huh, great! Go back to your room. "I need a bell."

Sensing that I wasn't giving her my full attention, she brought this out:
"See, I need a bell. And you can give me money and I will say 'Meeeeeeerry Christmas!' and I will DANCE!" (Our Salvation Army guy is very enthusiastic.) Interesting. Some kids play doctor, some kids play school or house. My kid plays Salvation Army Bell Ringer.

And because it makes me laugh:

(she's a very serious, somber child)

Rah-rah-rah for Rocket!

When Laura came to visit last May, she warned me that she had a present for Mabes, assuming it would fit in her suitcase. It did (only after taking it to work with her, right Bora?), and Mabes was delighted with her new giant plush Rocket from Little Einsteins. She had a blast with him for the next couple of days, but after that, it just sat on the chair as more of a decoration than a toy.

In the last few months, however, Rocket has become one of her favorite toys and her best friend during quiet time. She talks to him. She plays hide-and-seek with him. They have quite loud conversations, and it sounds like they re-enact her favorite episodes of Little Einsteins during quiet time. Still, I didn't understand her level of attachment until our last night in DC.

Like most nights, she asked "what's going to be tomorrow?" I told her Thursday, and she asked what we'd do. "Well, we'll go to a museum in the morning to see dinosaurs, and then we're going to drive for a while in the car, and then we'll be home." She thought for a minute, "Not the hotel house? But Mabes' house? My green house?" Yes, is that alright? "Yeah, I need to go home, because I miss Rocket." Really? Okaaaaay...

The next morning, as I was getting ready, she decided she needed to make some phone calls, so I unplugged the phone and let her have at it. First, she called the "man at the restaurant" and told him to make us some breakfast. We'd come get it soon. Then she decided she was going to call all her toys at home and tell them she missed them and was coming home. And then she needed to talk to just Rocket for a while. They had a heart-to-heart and she was fine the rest of the morning. The whole drive home, she talked about how much she missed her toys, especially Rocket. When we walked in the apartment, I asked her if she was going to go see Rocket. She slowly walked to her room and peeked in, with that shy "I know I like you and I'm happy to see you but I'm going to play coy for a minute" act that she does with family members she hasn't seen in a while. But this is a stuffed toy. She got over it, greeted all her toys, and was happily playing with them and everything is back to normal. To this day, we can't talk about our trip to Washington or see a picture of the Capitol or Washington Monument without her mentioning that that was when she missed Rocket.

I'm kind of nervous about our trip next week. Considering baggage fees, luggage space will be at a premium so Rocket will not be going with us. (Unless of course he flies himself.) I'm hoping she'll be too distracted by family members to notice Rocket's absence, but fam: if she starts whining about missing Rocket, you'll know why. Blame Laura.

Sunday

On Saturday, Mabes got two packages in the mail: a new Christmas dress and sweater/skirt combo from Aunt Nancy and my mom (aka her fashion benefactors), respectively. People at church often comment on how well-dressed Mabes is, and I'm sure they think I spend a small fortune on her wardrobe. But the truth is, thanks to gifts like these and Ainsleigh's hand-me-downs, I have purchased very few dresses for Mabes.

I tried my best to get a decent picture, but Mabes was in an uncooperative mood. The best are:

Too bright, though that pose was completely uncoached

or

Forced smile with crazy bright background.

I just got Photoshop Elements as an early Christmas gift, so maybe someday I'll figure out how to fix the background. Or just crop her out and put her on a beach in Kauai for funsies.

And because I don't learn, I decided to try again after church, when Mabes has a permanent Louie-like buzz until bedtime (though she paused briefly to give me the stink-eye):















Mabes was particularly excited about having a new dress, since Sunday marked the start of the Nursery-to-Primary transition. Though she won't be with the big kids full-time until January, this month, all the incoming Sunbeams get to go in to Primary for Singing Time. We had prepped her pretty well, so by the time the big day arrived, Mabes proved the naysayer ("I can't believe she's going to Primary--she's crazy in nursery and is always playing and running around!" Yeah, well that's because it's nursery, and they expect them to play and run around.) wrong.

When they brought in Mabes' class, the primary kids were sitting in a big circle and singing "Jesus Wants Me for a Sunbeam." They led them to chairs in the middle of the circle, and when Mabes realized they were singing for her, she abandoned her reverent arms-folded-walk in favor of a huge grin and Miss America wave. She did a great job of sitting still, though later reported that she didn't know the song and therefore wasn't able to sing. I don't think they sing "Give Said the Little Stream" anymore--we'll have to work on newer songs.

If the rock fits...

As we were walking out to the car yesterday, Mabes found a rock that she had to take in the car with us. "It's my magic rock!" I wasn't sure what was so magical about the raisin-sized pebble, but hey, she likes to hold random things in the car so why object?

We got in the car and I called my mom (with my bluetooth, so it's safer, right?) to tell her about holiday plans. We were talking for all of 5 minutes when Mabes starts yelling, "My nose! My nose! My magic rock is stuck in my nose!" Oh you're kidding me. I know there comes a time when kids discover that their nostrils seem to be the perfect size for many things, but why? Thankfully, my mom was already on the phone and could hear the mayhem in the background. "You'll need tweezers," she responded with a matter-of-fact, been-there-done-that tone. I quickly got off the phone with her so I could pull over and deal with Mabes.

As luck would have it, the first place I could pull over was the park. As soon as we pulled in, Mabes gets really excited and starts saying, "Park! We're going to go to the park! I want to swing and slide and run!" Sorry, Mabes, you stuck a rock up your nose. You can't swing with a rock up your nose. I jumped in the backseat with her to see if I could get it out. Nope, too high up. She sneezed a couple of times, and even with me covering the other nostril, the rock wouldn't budge. So we headed back home for tweezers, with Mabes upset about the no-playing-with-foreign-objects-up-your-nose rule. Then I hear, "Yaaaaaaaaaaayyyyy! My magic rock jumped out of my nose!" I turned around to see a beaming Mabes pointing to an empty nostril. "The rock is gone! Now we can go to the park!" Well played, Mabes.

We went to the park. It hadn't been part of my plans, but since the only objection I had given was the rock up the nose, I figured we could squeeze in a quick trip. And then I promptly called Sarah, only to find out that I'm in for all sorts of things-up-the-nose fun, and that a 3-year-old's nose can apparently also hold several peas.