mom, please me go to redbox and other stories from our summer

The other night, as I was putting Vi to bed, Elie came running in with a big grin on her face and said, "Mom, please me go to Redbox with Hannah! Me be weawy obedient." I was sure she had no idea what Redbox was, seeing how we lack such modern conveniences as DVD vending machines in Bangkok. (Don't feel too bad for us, we can have almost any restaurant deliver for $1.30.)

Since she was so excited and naive, I had to let her go. I was thinking Hannah would take her to get a movie and come back 15 minutes later. I waited almost an hour and when she came home, she was covered in tattoos. She proudly modeled her new ink--which was on every single appendage. Luckily it was Saturday night, so we had at least...16 hours for them to wear off before church. They didn't.

She rocked them.

 This is so Rocky, whose been back in Bangkok for 2 weeks, will remember what Vi and her shaggy mop top look like. That's a joke. We do video chat and I send him pictures and videos almost everyday. So it's a joke that he wouldn't know what she looks like now. Mostly.

The other day E started out the day asking if we could bring Vi outside so she could crawl on the grass. (Crawling is a new trick Violet's been working on for a few weeks--really couldn't have planned the timing better myself. There's really nothing I'd rather have when I board a 20 hour flight sans husband, than a six month old crawler. It's definitely ideal.)

We ignored her all day and right before bedtime, I finally asked E why she wanted Vi to crawl outside, she answered, "It just feels right."

So we did it. I'm not sure if it felt right to Vi, but she's a good sport.

 She really has no other choice.

 Speaking of E, she has become decidedly competitive. Well, she's always been fairly competitive, but it's getting significently more pronounced and tantrum inducing. Thanks to the Olympics, she always wants to be first so she can win the 'golden medal.' First out of the bath, first into the bath, first up the stairs, first across the pool, first across the yard...there is no end.

The other day she woke up crying from a nightmare. After I calmed her down, I asked her what was wrong and she replied through tears, "But me wanted the golden medal."

When I worrying told Rocky, he said it was his favorite story of Elie he'd ever heard. Let's hope she got his athletic ability and not mine. There's perhaps no more depressing combo than fierce competitiveness and no natural talent.

I had to include this pic because she just looks a little homeless. Clearly now that she's wanting to walk around I need to start adding some pants and/or shoes. Maybe it's the bare feet on pavement, or the scraggly hair, or maybe it is the single onesie. Whatever it is, I think she's grown out of her go to look.