Phoebe-Q

Phoebe found some lip gloss this morning, and having liberally applied it (+/-) to her lips declared herself "boo-i-ful." 

She insisted on wearing two skirts to the library.

I warned her that it might be a little chilly for a skirt, but she insisted she'd be fine. We came home and took Luna for a walk and when we came home Phoebe decided she'd rather wear pants—it was a little chilly with bare legs. So she went upstairs to get some pants.

I watched her awkwardly waddled down the stairs, but couldn't quite put my finger on what was wrong with her.

"I think something's wrong with your pants," I said. "Let me see..."

The issue she was having is that she was wearing not one, not two...or three...or even four pairs of pants. She had put on five pairs of pants. 

"I need them all!" she insisted. "It's so pold outside!"

"It's not so cold," I said. "It's just not quite warm enough for bare legs. One pair of pants will do."

"I need them all."

"You can hardly walk with all those layers on. Why don't you choose the ones you want to wear the most?"

She chose her Grogu pants. 

*****

Much later in the day I called the kids inside for bedtime and Phoebe comes up to the door holding two little pots of yogurt. We're all out of the drinkable stuff she likes, so this is what she's been reduced to, as it were.

"I have two yogurt flavors that are very simple."

"Simple?" I asked.

"Yes." She held up first one pot of yogurt and then the other for me to see. "One is blueberry and the one-n-one is strawberry. I got them for myself because I just love yogurt!" 

She had ripped off the lids and was licking away at the contents. I think by "simple" she meant that there were no "mixed berry" or "strawberry banana" or other such "fancy" flavours to choose from—just straight (simple) strawberry or blueberry.

We might need to get a lock for that outside fridge.

*****

Apparently one of our toy lizards passed away recently and Phoebe held a funeral for it on the couch in my bedroom:

*****

Lastly, she's still touch-and-go about staying dry through the night. We're still overworked. So...she's still in pull-ups. Tonight when I asked her to get a pull-up she did and then declared, "We don't even need this package anymore!" and wildly shook the package, sending pull-ups flying all over my room. 

"Oh, Phoebe," I sighed. "Momma is so tired. Can you not see that choice has made extra work for me to do? Now I have to pick up all these pull-ups before we can go downstairs to read stories..."

"I tan help you!" Phoebe said, racing around to gather pull-ups from hither, thither...and yawn (because it was bedtime, of course). 

"Thank you," I said. 

"You're well-pum!" she chirped. 

*****

And here's Phoebe and Rachel lying on the floor together during scriptures. We started bedtime late (that always happens when I'm the one in charge...) so we just practiced some memorized scriptures and poor Phoebe (who'd made all sorts of mischief today—far, far beyond when I've detailed here) was so exhausted that she just wanted to close her eyes.

Rachel was feeling pretty tired as well. She woke up searching for her keys in the middle of the night. Really, really...she woke up with her phone-flashlight in hand, pulling things out from under her bed, well aware that she was looking for her keys...but not really sure why she was looking for her keys.

She'd just been...sleepwalking... 

It's enough to wear a body out!