Every once in a while when Janel edges near stir crazy after being cooped up in the apartment all week, I get the opportunity to give her a break by staying home with little Faith. I must admit that my time with her probably is borderline Will Ferrell comedyesque. We see just how many stupid and silly things we can do in the two hours Janel spends on her never-ending quest to find a new pair of pants.
One of Faith's newest obsessions is sliding her arms through these "building blocks" and wearing them as bracelets. Our conversation goes something like this:
Me: "Faith, put the triangle in the block like this." (followed by a visual demonstration)
Faith: (tosses triangle aside as I hand it to her) "Let's see if my arm is the same shape as a triangle."
OK, she doesn't really say that, but if her vocabulary was that big, I guarantee you that's what she would be saying. Within seconds, she lodges them well up her arm -- which would be permanently were it not for my presence in the room to respond to her squealing grunts within a few minutes to remove them. (Yes, I'm learning toddler as a foreign language, and I've deduced that squealing grunts by a toddler with two building blocks firmly lodged on her arm means she's either frustrated that she can't get the blocks off her arm or frustrated because she can't suck her thumb due to the girth of the blocks.)
I had to get a few extra pictures of her, too, with her newly discovered accessories.
While Faith's newfound fad is cute, it is strangely reminiscent of the terrible fashion era of the 1980s.
I just hope jams never come back in. Those flower print shorts were hideous and were my only outlet for escaping the warm spring days in the South when my principal decided it would be fun to designate every Friday as "Jam Day." "Shorts Day" would've been much easier, plus it would've prevented me from having to beg my mom to waste some of our family's precious money on the most hideous fashion statements since leisure suits. People made fun of my chicken legs enough already--why torture my classmates by topping off my chicken legs with a Hawaiian fruit basket print that turned my lower torso into a hideous pineapple with frail appendages. No wonder the girls wouldn't talk to me? But I digress.
In preparation for the arrival of her new sibling, Faith has started practicing her big sister skills on "baby." Yes, that's the imaginative name we came up with for her newest baby doll. However, it's one Faith can actually say. And she says it over and over and over. Here's a picture of Faith tending to "baby."
I've been warned by other parents that we're now entering the deliciously cute stage of little Faith's life--and I couldn't agree more. I'm just hoping her sense of style improves by the time she's five.