I thought we were pretending

"No! We not pretending! I'm a princess for real life."

"And you a mean guy for real life."

The Horror! The Horror!

The following conversation occurred in the toy section of Target.

"Do you see anything you might like for Christmas?"

"I really want some kind of barbies––some kind of princesses," she said, "So that's what the deal is."

I made a vague mumbling noise. I despaired.

And then she found the 7-pack ultimate Disney princess collection, and gasped in wonder. This is a box set of seven barbie dolls dressed as Disney princesses.

"I want this!"

She looked up at me and held the box tightly in her arms: "It's really nice and really beautiful! I can have this, Daddy?"

"Well. We'll talk to your mother."

"Oh thank you, Daddy! Thank you! Thank you!"

(To be clear: She is never getting the 7-pack ultimate Disney princess collection. It is against our religion).

Everybody has plans

After reading an email from JJ, I told Sophie, "JJ has plans for you." Sophie told me, "I have plans for her...for us!"
These plans include:
1. Jumpy castle (this is going to be a hard one in mid-November.
2. Eat ice-cream
3. roll down a hill
4. ride a bus.
5. balloon

Making Plans

She's been making plans lately.

If we try to herd her in a direction she doesn't want to go, she'll often say, "But Daddy! I had a plan!" and then proceed to tell us what it is.

Most recently, she told us what her plans are for when her Hip-Hop Grandma visits next week:

"A Jumpy Castle! And Ice Cream! And Balloons!"

And after some prompting from her mother:

"Oh yeah! And Riding a Bus! And Rolling Down the Hill!"

As her mother was trying to settle her down for the night, she said "First I have to get situated!" (She then proceeded to roll up her pant legs, sleeves, and pajama top to show her belly–all preparatory to getting covered by the blanket and tucked in).

Whereupon my heart melted into a little puddle

"I think I don't like you!" my daughter told me at bedtime tonight.

"No?"

"No, I think I love you!"

Scatological

"Uh oh, I forgot!" she said.

"What did you forget?" her mother asked.

"I forgot we shouldn't say potty words at school."

"Yes, and we should't say potty words at the table. That's called scatological humor. Can you say scatological?"

"Poopy!"

adios stroller

I had never thought I'd own a stroller. We ended up owning 3. I put the last one up on sale on craigslist. We haven't used it now for several months. The last time we used it was in summer for a fair. I didn't realize that would be her last time in it.

I have to say, my three strollers were like a mini class on economics. We bought one for $400 + $100 of accessories. this was our main one and we used it the most. During mo. 4-16, Sophie rode in it a lot and it was my favorite. I sold it used for $225. Then I bought one for $15. I hated it. By the time I was done with it, it was rusty and nasty. We gave it away. I bought another one to replace it for $21 new. I'm selling it for $15 just to see if anybody will buy it (there's no babies r us where we live, so I think people won't realize that it only cost a bit more).
While I'm all about reuse, this gives me pause about what side of the equation I want to be on. If I buy new and sell, I get about 50% back, but I have to put the effort in to sell the stuff. If I buy used, I basically pay 1/2 but trash the items when I am done.
Either way, reusing one way or the other pays off: buy it and sell it or buy it used and get the last bit of life out of it.

My newest goal (which I'm really taking with a grain of salt): find something to sell for everything I replace. Sophie wants an advent calendar for X-mas, so something has to get sold. no stroller--no advent calendar. (not really).

Next up for sale in a few months, I think: sophie's tricycle. She's all about her like-bike now. We ride that to school several times a week. When that goes, it means it's time for a real bike, omg!