Marianne is my constant companion. That is why she is critical of my driving abilities, likes to pick out what kinds of cereal or mac and cheese we eat, and why she can proficiently bread chicken for frying. She can also crack eggs and whisk ingredients, but as a rule I plan for a 10% loss of ingredients whenever she helps me bake - either because she is messy or because she is a devoted taste tester.
On a weekly basis we go shopping, and she likes to tell me which stores to go to based on the benefits they provide to her - Smiths has car carts, Sprouts has stickers, and Albertsons has cookies.
Twice a week we try to go to a yoga class that a ward member teaches at the church. Moms take turn doing the babysitting. This pic is from when it was my turn to play in the nursery with Marianne and she was baking me lots of goodies and serving me tea. She is fine with me "going to yoga" when I'm actually "going to watch kids at yoga." Otherwise, she offers enough resistance that if my own resolve is weak, I am easily swayed into not going.
There are three little girls in Marianne's life to whom she is truly devoted. One is her cousin Rachel. The other is her frenemy Noelle. And the third is her dear friend Sidney. When Marianne and Sidney play together, they are little angels, so happy, and so distracted by their games. This pic is of Marianne and Sidney as Rainbow Kitties.
Marianne is so endearing with her blue eyes and happy smile and her immense conversational abilities that you might never guess that she has a messy streak as wide as the Mississippi. She changes clothes five times a day, and usually empties her drawers onto the floor looking for "the cupcake shirt" or her "kitty pants". Her clothing routine goes like this:
Wake up in jammies.
Change to different jammies after breakfast.
When we have to go somewhere, she changes into her "morning clothes," which are actual clothes.
When we get home she either:
A. Changes into her queen Elsa dress accessorized by her queen Elsa necklace and princess shoes, or
B. Changes into "something soft" so we can SNUGGLE.
At bedtime she always changes into something soft so we can snuggle, if she isn't there already.
This picture is of the mess she makes emptying our costume bucket in the hall to find the perfect princess dress.
I should have mentioned a fourth favorite girl in her life - her Grandma Cutesy. Marianne and Cutesy have a special bond. Marianne will call her and invite her over and tell her she wants to snuggle and relate to her in detail all of her owies in their expansive stages of healing. And when they are together, they will talk and snuggle, and Marianne will ask for lotion on her back and front and bum and they will talk about her upcoming birthday (in September).
Marianne is at that awful stage where she doesn't nap but isn't the happiest person in the afternoon. (Like Rus. Rus never left that stage.) In January our time slot at church changed to one and Marianne graduated to Sunbeams. She was not in favor of this advancement, however, and spent many long tearful minutes in Sunbeams until I took her out and told her she could enjoy Sunbeams or nap with me. She chose a nap. In the most awkward of positions. She slept like this for at least 30 minutes.
And that concludes my photo dump of the exploits of Marianne. Oh how I love that little tornado.
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