I wish I had my own paparazzi. I think this on a fairly regular basis. No, it’s not because I have some celebrity complex that needs validation though constant attention. It’s because I have children. Small children. Very hard to catch-in-the-act, small children. Flamboyantly, persnickety, adorable, very hard to catch-in-the-act, small children. I would literally have to follow them around all the time and issue annoying “WAIT!STOP!DON’TMOVE!” commands.
Having my own entourage of paparazzi would have come in handy yesterday. We bought Violet a riding ticket for a carousel yesterday. It was at the local mall where we had decided to escape to for the day to avoid the rain. In the center of the mall was this adorable imported-from-italy, made-a-decently-long-time-ago, hand-painted carousel. As soon as we entered the mall and Violet saw it she was squealing with delight. Eventually, towards the end of our outing we decided to let her ride it. She was ecstatic. Thrilled. Overcome. Until…she sat on the horse. Everyone was watching. Too many people watching. MUST. GET. OFF. NOW! AJ brought her over to sit in the carriage on the carousel instead of a horse, and I got to watch from the side as her face got progressively tear-filled in each successive circle. If it wasn’t so cute it would have been funnier. She was just getting over a horrifyingly embarrassing moment in Macys where she had nearly pulled a mannequin on top of her self and was stopped by a store employee just in time. For whatever reason, that incident scalded her little psyche with the white-heat that can only be brought about through a social blunder. Next thing she knows, she’s sitting on a brightly painted horse, surrounded in color, lights, and music with a bunch of people watching. No wonder.
Anyway, we’re coming home three weeks from today. I’d tell you to get the bubbly ready for me but i’m pretty sure someone would bring me pop.
Last but not least. Violet has been collecting sticks and bringing them home on our walks lately. She loves all the potential they have for entertainment. She just woke up, came down stairs, and wandered around mumbling “Steek…steek” until she found her favorite stick under the coffee table. “Steek! Mama! Violet’s Steek!” And then, she hugged it.