Thankfully it was imaginary tea, because Elle's unabashed posing for the camera meant her cup was not optimally positioned beneath Olivia's pot. Which is good because my hardwoods can only endure so much toddler love. Between the mega-Tesla magnetic pull that floor has on any sticky, slimy, or vibrantly staining substance and the recent discovery of a protruding nail on the bottom of one of my high heels, I'm starting to consider resurfacing the entire downstairs in astroturf. Or Brawny paper towels. Moral of the story? I need new shoes.We also made a brief appearance at the pool, dodging torrential rainstorms interspersed with deceptively promising bouts of sunshine.
Elle had an opportunity to model her swimsuit, and scored off the charts in the categories of paleness, age-appropriate thigh rolls, and fashionable protrusion of swim diaper from the confines of one's suit. Extra points for uncanny ability to disrobe Mommy Janet-Jackson-style repeatedly during the short aqua adventure.
We did some housework.
Which, of course, meant that I cleaned up E's mess while she maintained a death grip on the broom/dustpan and sang at the top of her lungs the "Clean Up, Clean Up, Everybody Clean Up" song while perched on the couch. Apparently she has a very loose understanding of the word "everybody".
We tried (and failed) to get some video of E doing the adorable and supersmart things she does all the time until we try obtaining any sort of physical documentation. Typically she ends up with the camera and I'm lucky if I can find it at the end of the interaction.
Finally we continued our constant public service of ensuring that all household baby dolls have their diapers changed on a q30second schedule. An exorbitant amount of wipes, cream, and fanfare are inevitably involved.
