So Herself was up at seven this morning, after staying up past eleven last night (usually Game Night runs to about 9:30, but she just couldn't settle at all). Eight hours is not enough for a three-year-old. We met my mom for breakfast at the Crystal Creek Cafe, where Little Miz Liz put away a pancake with strawberries and whip cream, scrambled eggs, and a slice of bacon. Then we went to the local auto-parts store to get a headlamp for my car. While there, she spotted a good old -fashioned plain Hershey Bar. And was suddenly starving again. No, she didn't get it; I'm not that easy.
On to Target, where she tells me offhandedly that her cousin Lucy is "adorable, just like my monkey pajamas". Lucy is adorable, but why the comparison with monkey pajamas? She must have seen some in the store - they're standard Carter. We picked up a few things, including a giraffe-themed pillow from the dollar spot, and some things for the Treasure Box, and a book for Lizzy. After much discussion, it is decided that a giraffe pillow will do, although we really want a rattle (God only knows why) . Ah, now Costco is open!. We buy Daddy's favorite meatballs, and Mommy's favorite baby cucumbers, and Abby's favorite plums, and Lizzy's favorite tomatoes. And some of that great yogurt Mommy can eat, because "it doesn't have milk, and Mommy's 'lergic" (it does have milk, but the allergen - whey - has been strained out).
And now she's sad because we didn't get her a rattle with a giraffe, but she gets over it when I offer to take the pillow back to Target. We head to Wendy's; Momma's getting more than a little winded at this point and really does not want to cook lunch . On the way, we run into a traffic snafu, where the DOT is doing construction. A local latte-stand-slash-donut-shop is taking advantage of stopped traffic to do a little on-the-spot marketing, asking people to honk if they heart donuts. After making me read the sign out loud to her, Lizzy asks if she can tell the lady she hearts donuts, because she doesn't "have a honker". Lowered her window and the lady was charmed enough to give us a sample and a coupon for a free donut. Yum. Good donuts, too, and friendly people making the best of a really bad traffic day.
We finally make it to Wendy's, and Lizzy takes her own sweet time deciding on "the best kind of dip". When she uses this totally world-weary voice to tell the cashier that really, she's "so tired of barbecue," I about choke trying to keep from laughing. She finally settles on sweet-n-sour and we get home, ready for lunch and a nap.
As I write this, she's doing her mama's-left-elbow-is-my-comfort-object shtick, interfering with my typing speed. But that's okay. I'm ready to settle down for an afternoon of nothing more adventurous than dishes and laundry. And maybe a bite of the donut.