A Hybrid Superhero and a Request

Riis was wearig some odd face paint when I picked her up last night, a sort of Wonder-Woman-Meets-the-1974 Olympics-Meets-Native-American-Pow-Wow set of stripes.

I think it's Sports Week at her preschool. I have not been a great parent this week. I only found out it was Hat Day yesterday when her teacher sent me a picture of all of the kids, uh, wearing hats. (Riis...had no hat.)

However, she's still not even two, so she'll never remember that I was a crap-tastic mother who could not be bothered to bring in a hat, tra la la. I remembered to give her dinner last night, so we're still ahead in the grand scheme of things, yes?

Today was jersey day. She wore a pink t-shirt. She'll live.

Yesterday also furthered the great hair mystery. (Cue Scooby-Doo violins of doom here.) When I try to do Riis's hair at home, she screams and bucks and howls and shimmies away as fast as her fat little legs will carry her. Therefore I seriously don't even bother anymore. (That seems to be a theme today.) But I often pick her up and find her in jaunty little pigtails, or a cute barrette. Yesterday, she had an elaborate hairstyle that required SIX ponytail holders. SIX! I counted them. The notion of getting her to sit still for that long boggles my mind. Yet there they were. Maybe they drug her?



This is three seconds later, after she's been denied a request to use my phone. Imagine if this picture had volume. Now you know what it's like to live with Riis.



Here's a few seconds of her in the tub later. Midway through, she does her latest: She asks for my phone ("I want phone!"), then, when her request isn't granted, immediately asks, "Why?!"

She is 18 months old, demanding an explanation for denial of benefits.

Also? Although I'm really just doing this blog to satisfy my own personal obsession for documentation (ask Josh about she shelves of pictures from college I've still yet to digitize), it would be nice if you all would comment from time to time. Mostly because this whole thing is going to serve as a record for the kids someday, and I'm sure they'd like to know what their loved ones thought of their antics.

End request, on with the show: