al Ahramat

To their credit, the Great Pyramids are spectacular. I do recommend going to see them, in spite of the fact that they are being completely exploited. It's not their fault they're now a big tourist trap. They were meant to be monumental, which they are, but there are just too many people, both tourist and local, there. Given the choice between Dahshur and the Great Pyramids, I choose Dahshur.

We had an eventful day today. While we were driving out to the pyramids with Emad, he somehow convinced us to take a carriage ride to the pyramids instead of just having him drive us there. Mistake!

I'm sure he thought he was doing us a favor. I mean, he offered to drive us there, but said that we could also take a camel or horse or carriage and that he knew of a great "stable" And that option, obviously, sounded fun. Sounded being the operative word.

So we ended up at a perfume shop where we were given the rundown on Egyptian "aromatheraphy" by a "doctor" and given soda to drink. After we had turned down the perfume salesman (Oh, I mean "doctor") we were given the options for our tour.

Rachel, Karen, and I would share a carriage. Andrew would have to ride a camel since we couldn't all fit in one carriage.

Andrew riding his camel through town

Presently we found ourselves back outside being herded onto a carriage. Andrew disappeared somewhere, but they assured us that we'd meet up with him at the pyramids. And then we took off through town, stopping at a "ticket booth" to purchase our tickets. The tickets were verifiable, but the booth seemed a little iffy. I'm not sure it was an actual state-owned ticket booth because the actual ticket booth is at the entrance to the pyramids.

After getting in an argument with the ticket lady about the validity of my student ID card, I ended up having to pay full fare since she insisted that my student ID card was not actually a student ID card and that I was here to work, not to study.

"This says un-i-ver-si-ty." I told her, "It means 'gamia.' I'm a student."

"This is not a student card. It is a work card."

"No, it's a school card. I'm a student."

"It's a work card."

Do they even have work cards? Whatever. Without Andrew there I didn't have a fight.

Little did I know, he got into the same argument somewhere else about his student ID card--which is an Egyptian student ID card--but end up winning and only paying student fare.

So after that little kerfuffle we headed back into Cairene traffic. Rachel wasn't too fond of the ride. She's scared of all animals, apparently, and was really worried about having a horse up front. The ride was also so bumpy that we soon regretted opening up her pop can--it kept sloshing out at her on every bump. I took it away and tried to drink it as fast as I could, but even I was having a hard time drinking it.

We were happy when we came to the gates. Grandma got down first and I handed her Rachel, who, in her excitement to get out of the carriage, jumped a little too hard, sending Grandma sprawling.

Imagine my surprise when I turned around from getting out of the carriage to see Grandma and Rachel on the ground. Grandma was flat on her back, still cradling Rachel.

Poor Karen had stepped down off the sidewalk to be closer to the carriage, in order to get Rachel. When Rachel hit her with more force than she was expecting, she had to take a step backwards, but the curb was right there so she tripped and fell over. It didn't help any that we were on a steep hill...

Rachel came out unscathed, but Grandma cut up her foot pretty badly (we think she maybe kicked a spoke on her way down or something) and hurt her knee...and I'm sure her back and head, as well. It's a good thing she was prepared and had band aides and everything. It took four band aides just to fix up her toes.

All that just to walk through a metal detector before climbing back up on the carriage.

I didn't even end up walking through it because for some reason the guards don't like me to carry Rachel through it. They prefer me to walk around the metal detector, carrying Rachel. I'm not sure what harm they think the metal detector will do to Rachel...or how that really helps with security...

Once we were back on the carriage, being prompted by our worried guide to go "slowly, slowly, slowly," we started zipping past the pyramids. Every time we slowed down I thought we were going to stop, but we kept going and going and going. Our guide was muttering some memorized spiel and we kept zooming along.

Meanwhile, back on the camel...

Andrew's guide insisted that they take off across the desert at break-neck speed. According to the guide, the police don't like the camels to linger in the desert so they had to go quickly or they'd be yelled at. More likely they had to go quickly or they'd be swarmed by vendors. Although the new laws in Egypt prohibit vendors within the pyramid complex it's business as usual, anyway, and many vendors are there, showing their wares and hustling tourists.

So, here's Andrew on his camel, racing across the desert, sharing his saddle with the boy who had previously been leading his camel on foot, when the saddle started slipping to one side. Andrew and the boy started leaning to the other side to try to counterbalance their weight, but it was no use and the saddle continued to slip. Soon they found themselves hanging on for dear life while the camel continued its run across the sand. Andrew was clinging to the saddle, his feet barely able to reach the ground, while the boy had his arms wrapped around the camel's neck.

The guide, luckily, was on a horse and was able to get the camel under control before anyone was trampled. Andrew hurt his hand, but he fared rather well when compared to Karen!

Us on the carriage

Andrew on his camel

We were glad when we finally met up with Andrew again so that we could exchange horror stories. Oh, and look at the pyramids, too.

Karen at one of the Great Pyramids

Rachel looking contemplative

We weren't able to climb them very much because a pesky policeman kept following us around and nagging at us. He wanted us to have a tour guide with us and called one over. We ran away when his back was turned so that we wouldn't have to deal with bartering for yet another tourist trap rip-off.


It was fun to see them up close again, though.

After we'd had our fill of the pyramids we headed back to our rides. Andrew's camel guide let us all take turns. Karen was a little nervous at first, but she put a big smile on and bravely mounted the camel. Riding a camel is a rather awkward thing to do; they are just such weird animals. Obviously the whole hump thing is a little odd. 'Nuff said. And then they are so high off the ground and their neck is so long and never seems to point the direction of travel so you end up feeling like you're kind of floating. When they kneel down you have to lean way, far back in your seat, otherwise you end up completely horizontal. And then there's their mouth. That's just gross. They're constantly moaning and smacking their slobbery lips. They're intimidating animals.

I was proud of Karen for trying, but even more proud of Rachel overcoming her fear of camels and taking a short ride across the desert with me. Rachel was terrified of the camel and first and just about died of fright when she was sitting on the camel with Daddy.

Grandma on the camel

Save me, Mommy!

She doesn't like when they moan and groan, but she will moan and groan back to them. You can hear her doing it in the video...

When I started getting on the camel with her, she was also pretty nervous but she just hugged me tight until the camel stood up.

It's okay, baby!

She didn't really relax until after we'd started moving. She started making camel noises and then the camel would make noises back. Soon the guide and I had her performing all sorts of animal noises. After she'd exhausted her reportoire she sank into my arms and relaxed so much that she almost fell asleep.

Ahhh, so comfy!

Walking across the desert

The ride was a little too bumpy for her to fall all the way asleep though and also made her realize that she had to go potty. She made her little fist into "potty" and shook it at me. I tried to tell her to hold it, but she just couldn't. Not with the camel plodding along and sloshing her little bladder around.

Oh, no! Hold it, Rachel!

She stood up to pee, which I was happy about because she had rubber pants on so they caught all her pee and didn't spill a drop on me! We just lowered her down from the camel, emptied out her rubber pants, and changed her clothes on the spot.

I'm peeing and you want me to smile for a picture?

This might be embarrassing for her a few years down the road, but really it's kind of cool. I mean, how many American children can say that they peed their pants while sitting on a camel and then stripped down naked in the middle of the desert in front of the Great Pyramids? Not many.

Changing in front of the pyramids. No potties here...

The guides all watched while we changed her. They tried to look like they weren't watching, but I'm pretty sure they peeked because they suddenly all agreeing with each other that she was definitely a "bint" (daughter). People are never quite sure if Rachel is a boy or a girl--they don't really have designated colors for genders here and no one seems to know that Rachel is a girl's name. I'm not sure what they think about her ponytails...

After we'd changed her, Rachel and I got back in the carriage so that we could be pulled by the Sphinx. We were under the impression that we'd be stopping to take pictures, and we did...but only for a split second. Our driver wouldn't stop long enough to let us out to go see the Sphinx and just drove us out of the complex and into the street after we'd shot a few pictures from the carriage.

The Sphinx

This was probably for the best because Rachel had somehow managed to fall asleep and I didn't really want to wake her...although I did want to see the Sphinx up close. Maybe next time.

Andrew got stranded inside with his camel because that guide thought we really were going to stop and take pictures. He kept calling my cell phone to see where we were, but I couldn't hear it. He was persistent, though, and kept calling until I eventually felt it vibrating (it rings and vibrates at the same time), but even then it took me a while to find it because Rachel was sleeping on my lap and I had to dig around in my bag to find the phone.

He caught up with us outside the gates and then we had to tip our driver so that he'd take us back to the taxi. Andrew told us to tip him 20 LE, so Karen handed him a 20, which he took willingly, but then he also wanted 20 LE from me.

"Are you happy?" he asked me.

"Yes," I said.

"Then give him [me] 20 LE. I give you a good time. I help you be happy."

"I have to talk to my husband first," I informed him, sure that Andrew meant that we would tip him 20 LE, total.

"But are you happy? Then give him [me] money! Are you happy?"

"Maybe," I said.

I ended up not tipping him extra. We just hopped in the taxi when we found it and drove away without another word. We learned some valuable lessons, two of the most important being to take a taxi in the complex, and not fall for a 400 LE tourist trap excursion; and that we should wear shoes next time. So, although we suffered some mishaps, I suppose we were happy overall, though it has nothing to do with the carriage driver.

More Teething

Sometimes when Rachel screams I get a real good look in her mouth. It's actually one of the more pleasant ways for me to look in her mouth--she keeps it open during a real gut-wrenching scream for quite a while and I'm able to peek in her mouth and look for new teeth without getting my finger bitten.

A few weeks ago Rachel opened her mouth to scream while we were out walking and I noticed a big, purplish, black spot on her gums. I was pretty frantic about it because she'd already had one molar come in and this hadn't happened. So called my friend Sara. She said it was probably just her tooth trying to come through.

Molars, apparently, are killer.

She gave me some Orajel and we've been using that for the last few weeks. I realize that it says to only use it for a week at a time on the package, but we've been using it for longer than that anyway. Rachel's gum was black and blue and looked really painful, but the tooth was no where in sight so to keep her sleeping through the night, we'd just numb her gum before bed. She seemed to deal with the pain during the day without it.

I kept checking her mouth periodically, usually when she was screaming, to see if her tooth had popped through. There didn't ever seem to be any progress.

It was still black and blue when Karen arrived and I showed it her. She assured me, as so many other mothers in the branch here, that, although it was pretty gruesome looking, it was probably alright.

And it was.

Yesterday when we got in the taxi to come home, Rachel started howling with her head thrown back, giving me a beautiful view of her mouth. This time, instead of the black and blue gum, there was a little bit of a pristine white tooth showing. Hallelujah! It took that tooth forever to break through.

Now the other side of her mouth looks like it's starting to bruise, she has another molar on the bottom coming and her canine teeth on the top are breaking through as well. Phew! We're almost done with this round of teething! Only 4 more teeth to go until we get another break!

Flashback Friday: Smelling the way it tastes

Yesterday I tried pineapple flavored Mirinda. I'm not sure how I feel about it because we got some pineapple scented Pril, a German brand of dish soap, a while ago as well. Andrew accidentally used it to mop the floors before Karen got here and, truthfully, the pineapple Mirinda tastes like the way pineapple Pril smells. Not a real pineapple taste, exactly, but more of a manufactured pineapple taste.

Which brings us to my flashback, again taking place in Russia. There are a lot of those, I guess.

We were having FHE at my friend Alla's parents. Alla wasn't there because she was in America, getting ready to attend school at BYU. Although Alla is a member of the church, her parents are not. They would be excellent members if they were, though! They live the word of wisdom, go to church every Sunday, have FHE every Monday. They're a great couple and adopted all of us; we always got great, big hugs from Tatiana every time we saw her.

As a side note, their house was also great. They built it themselves, which I think is amazing. It is kind of cabin-esque, with very steep stairs and wood floors and walls. The hot water pipe ran up the stairwell like a railing and you had to be careful not to hold it too tightly or you'd get burned. They hung carpets on the walls to keep out the cold and had a cute little kitchen nook that we'd all squeeze around to eat. It was very comfortable and home-sweet-home like.

So, we were at their home with the Elders so that they could teach a "lesson" (read: discussion) for FHE and help translate conversation back and forth between Russian and English. After the lesson we probably played mafia. We played that game a lot in Russia.

After that we went downstairs to the kitchen to squeeze, once more, around their table, making sure that none of the girls sat at a corner spot so we wouldn't harm our chance of getting married one day. Sergi made oladi for us, as usual, while Tanya fixed some homemade maple syrup (she always had mapleine flavoring somehow) and served us compote.

On this particular Monday, Tanya had run out of cherry compote and began serving apricot compote instead, which was really unfortunate because apricot compote isn't nearly as good as cheery compote. In fact, apricot compote isn't very good at all, but we each had our glass of compote and were expected to drink it. It would be terribly rude not to.

So we all held our breath and choked it down.

Tanya must have noticed that we didn't like the compote very much; after all, no one asked for seconds, which we usually did when we were having cherry compote.

She asked us what was wrong. Most of us politely lied, assuring her that the compote was fkusna (delicious) and that we just weren't thirsty.

Staci, however, put on a lovely, cheerful voice and with a big smile on her face sang out, "This tastes the way B.O. smells!"

We all started giggling uncontrollably, which prompted Tanya to ask for a translation.

One of the Elders piped up and, before any of us could intervene on Staci's behalf, said, "She thinks it is the most delicious thing she's ever tasted and definitely wants a second glass!"

Tanya was absolutely beaming while she poured Staci another glass of the putrid smelling, and similarly tasting, apricot compote. She had to choke down a second glass, poor girl.

And that's kind of why I can't decide whether or not I like this pineapple pop. It tastes the way our floors smelled after Andrew mopped them last week...and I'm not sure how I feel about that.

We are sailors. We sail.

In spite of being dog-tired, we decided to go on a felucca ride late this afternoon. This involved having to wake Rachel up from her nap, getting her dressed (she and I both had to change out of our smelly throw-up clothes when we got home and she ended up napping in nothing but a diaper), and, since we'd decided to kill two birds with one stone and have dinner on the felucca, ordering pizza.

Don't they just look tired?

Eating dinner

We ended up getting down to the docks a little late and the sun had already started to set, but it was a really relaxing ride anyway, and quite successful when compared to our last felucca excursion.

We got to go further downstream before turning back up and therefore got to see a lot more, like the mansions on the other side of the Nile, fishing/farming boats, and, of all things, a parade!

Little dinghies

Apparently some of the 6th of October celebrations carry over to the 16th of October, since that is when the war really ended. There was a fair of sorts going on with hot air balloons, ultralight hang gliders, and a parade of 6 floats floating down the Nile. We had to wait for the parade to pass before we could dock, which was fine with me because I kind of wanted to watch. I'd never seen a parade on a river before, so it was kind of interesting...in an odd sort of way.

Some of the floats

hang gliders

It was a perfect way to end our very long and tiring day. I'm glad we didn't put it off!

Three generations

Silly baby

Andrew's girls

Daddy and Rachel

Islamic Cairo, Old Cairo, and Khan al-Khalili

Our Islamic Cairo tour started off with a heave and a gag, and as the taxi pulled up in front of Sultan Hassan I found myself covered, once more, in Rachel throw-up. She'd been a little melancholic this morning but I just assumed that was because she was still sleepy when we left the house. I assumed wrong.

Lucky for me it was just grapes, rice krispies, and breast milk so nothing smelled too putrid or dyed my clothes red. It was just like really, really chunky baby spit up. We think it was the grapes that did Rachel in this time--they were left over from Grandma's dinner at Lucille's last night and Rachel ate some for breakfast. That's the only thing she ate that no one else did, and since she's the only one who lost her breakfast we're assuming it was a bit of food poisoning.

We momentarily considered having Rachel and I turn around and go back home, but in the end decided we should stay. Rachel already seemed to be perking up and convincing our taxi driver to take us back, puke covered, and for a reasonable rate seemed too ominous of a task.

So we stayed. Andrew got to tie the burp cloth to his backpack so that it could air dry, which was nice of him. It meant that all three of us went around the whole day smelling like throw up. Grandma was the only one who got off the hook.

Andrew takes his blankey everywhere

Rest assured the rest of our day went much smoother. Rachel was amazingly well behaved and held her potties for the whole 7 hours we were gone (apparently Islamic Cairo tours are always long). We learned that most mosques have toilets, which is nice to know when you're taking a potty-trained one year old around all day. Finding toilets quickly is definitely a neccessity because when she starts waving her little fist around, signing "potty," it means that she needs a potty ASAP. Finding toilets is easy since mosques in Cairo are probably more plentiful than LDS chapels in Orem.

She tried to use a squatter toilet at Ibn Tuloun, but that was far too scary for her so she held everything in until we got to Al-Azhar at the very end of our day. She was so happy to see a normal potty and had been holding her pee for seven hours so she didn't even put up a fuss about having to use a "big girl" potty.

We first went into Sultan Hassan Mosque. It is huge.

Come on, Mom!

Rachel had a fun time running around. She always likes to explore mosques. There was a cute little kitty inside and Rachel thought long and hard about petting it; when it finally came up to her she screamed and hid behind my leg.

Make it go away, mom!

The cat was really interested in Rachel and didn't want to leave her alone. Rachel kept screaming at it until it decided Rachel wasn't too friendly. I guess we've taught her well about Cairo street cats: don't touch.

Andrew explained about the four different schools of Islamic thought, how the mihrab points to Mecca, and various other topics to Karen and me while he pointed different things out in the mosque. Apparently Rachel was paying attention. She decided to kneel down and say a little prayer herself.

So...which way is Mecca?

Rachel really got her energy back at Al Rifai Mosque.

Good thing we got there before it was time for the praying!

I climbeded the stairs all by myself!

Her favorite room was the room where the shah of Iran was burried. It had nice, cool marble floors and great acoustics. She spent a lot of her time spinning around and singing to herself...until she remembered that, although she technically had breakfast, she was hungry.

Let me down so I can spin some more!

Mommy, you remind me I'm hungry.

She and I spent the rest of our time breast feeding in a dark, forgotten corner near the woman's section of the mosque while Daddy and Grandma explored some more tombs. Daddy still had the burp cloth tied to his backpack so I didn't really have anything to cover up with, which is why we hid out in the dark and forgotten corner. Rachel isn't very good at being discrete and so we were hoping that no one would spy on us there. Plus there was a bench to sit on. I think we ended up choosing a very good spot because when Daddy and Grandma came out from the back rooms they couldn't find us for a long time even though I was yelling and waving from my secret corner.

A tomb--doesn't it look like it should be in India?

Eventually Grandma spotted us and we all had a nice rest while Rachel finished second breakfast. When she was finished we made our way to Ibn Tulun.

Andrew went around to see if the minaret was open while Grandma, Rachel and I went inside the mosque--we carried our shoes so that we would have to wear those ridiculous booties. We were happy to see him way up at the top of the minaret because that meant that it was unlocked this time!

Where's Daddy?

Way up there!

Rachel and Grandma walking in Ibn Tulun

We took turns going up the minaret because there isn't much of a wall at the top and we were too scared to take Rachel up there. Maybe when she's (a lot) older. She hung out on the roof with Daddy while Grandma and I went up. We were both too chicken to go up to the very top window, though.

Andrew on the roof

Me on the minaret

Rachel and Daddy on the roof

While we were taking turns climbing the minaret and playing on the roof the call to prayer sounded. It was neat to hear it echoing all around us while we were so close to an actual minaret. Unfortunately they don't use that minaret anymore...which is probably why they let tourists tramp up and down it all day long.

Bird's eye view of Cairo from the roof of Ibn Tulun

When we were finished there we caught a cab to Bab al-Futuh so that we could walk down Sharia al-Muizz li-Din Allah and into Khan al-Khalili. Remarkably enough, it took us a long time to find a taxi driver who said that they knew what Bab al-Futuh was, and even then he drove us to Khan al-Kalili and tried to make us get out. Andrew insisted that we be taken to Bab al-Futuh and our taxi driver asked several people, including Andrew, for directions. Eventually we did find it and were able to walk Karen down the street.

It's a nice place to walk because the traffic isn't bad at all. Cars aren't, typically, allowed in Old Cairo so it's fairly quiet and you can take time to look at the buildings and things without worrying about being squashed.

Never ceases to amaze me

We stopped to see a few more mosques, including al-Hakim bi-Amr Allah and al-Aqmar.

Andrew's girls at al Hakim

Soon the more native, residential feel of Old Cairo gave way to souvenier shops and we knew we had stumbled into the Khan.

Me, Rachel, and Grandma heading into Khan al-Khalili

Wanna buy a minaret topper?

We looked at several booths and shops, finding a shirt for Karen, some new sandals for Andrew (that boy goes through them like water), a Halloween costume for Rachel, and some scarves for both Karen and I so that we wouldn't have to borrow the icky used-a-million-times-and-never-washed ones at Al Azhar. We also stumbled upon this little number...

My rapt?

...and really wanted to get one for Rachel, but they didn't have one in her size. Rather unfortunate, don't you think, because I really see her as my little bunny "rapt." We may just have to go back and get it so that we can take embarrassing photos of our subsequent children wearing it. And when they fail their third grade spelling test they can take that picture to their psychologist and blame all their emotional problems on us.

When we felt we had wandered aimlessly around Khan al-Khalili long enough we headed over to Al Azhar mosque, our final stop in our Islamic Cairo tour. Oddly enough, this tour was about an hour longer than our first one two years ago but we endured it much better. I think there are several reasons for this--having Rachel with us is not one of them--including the fact that it's October, not July; and that we brought plenty of water and snacks; and that we were expecting it to be a day trip and not just a couple of hours; and that Andrew had since studied most of the history behind these mosques at school and now found them interesting.

I was still happy that we'd come to the end of our tour, though! There were still so many mosques left unseen, but we were all hot, dirty, hungry, and tired. And seriously, after seven hours enough was enough, even for a history enthusist like Andrew.

Me, veiled at Al Azhar

Andrew at Al Azhar

Amazingly enough, Rachel was the only one who didn't want to go home. She was having such a fun time running around the columns that we had to almost drag her outside...and then she threw a huge fit about getting in the taxi to come home.

I'm hiding behind this column and you can't see me...

It didn't take her long to fall asleep once we were home, though. We really wore her out!

House guests aren't scary

I have a confession: I am sitting on the couch with my husband, relaxing and blogging while my mother-in-law is in the kitchen doing the dishes.

I may feel slightly guilty about that, but truthfully I think it's awesome!

I mean, I'm sitting here and the dishes are just magically cleaning themselves...well, Karen's doing it...but still, you get the picture.

It's been so great having her here! Rachel has loved having another person around to play with and I've enjoyed having a break from Rachel every now and then. Not that I don't enjoy spending time with Rachel, but our relationship is a little intense.


I can go to the bathroom without Rachel trying to climb on my lap. I can make dinner without Rachel tugging on my pants. I can sit down and relax for a few minutes without Rachel coming over and bouncing on me or head-butting me.

It's really nice.

It's also been nice to have an exploration buddy. I'm too chicken to go out and do things on my own and Karen's willing to go out and try to do anything I want to try.

We're going to have a hard time letting her go when it's time. Then I'll be thrown back into full-time mothering/housewiving, counting down the days until Uncle David arrives so that he can be the one to be jumped on, head-butted, and tugged at...

Shop 'til we drop!

Who'd have thought that someone so little could know how to shop so well? I certainly never expected it, not when she has me for a mother, but Rachel really knows her stuff.

When we lived in Utah, I think we took her to the mall 4 or 5 times her entire life during Andrew's watch saga. Here we go grocery shopping a lot, but that's about it. We've been to Maadi Grand Mall a few times and City Stars once, but not really to shop. I just hate the process of shopping.

I'm so indecisive and hesitant about everything that I buy.

Rachel is not.

We had a pretty laid back day today. We had been planning to visit Coptic Cairo, but Rachel hadn't slept well last night and was grumpy. Because she hadn't slept well I hadn't slept well and, frankly, I was a little grumpy, too. Karen hadn't slept well because the foam mattress she's sleeping on has a little too much memory and not enough foam so she was basically sleeping on wooden slats.

After trying, and failing due to a temper tantrum, to go to Coptic Cairo in spite of our exhaustion, we turned around to come back home for a nap. Karen and I pulled the mattress off of the bed in Rachel's room and stacked it under the one in her room. Then we all went down for an afternoon siesta.

Andrew called around 3:00 to say that he'd be home early and we were just waking up then.

So we decided to go out for dinner at Lucille's, famous for its "world's best" hamburgers, and then Karen, Rachel and I would hang around Road 9 to shop while Andrew went to his tutoring job.

On our way to Lucille's

It was hard for Rachel to look without touching until Karen spotted a cute pair of pyjamas that looked like they'd fit Rachel. We decided that we'd get her a pair. She knew they were for her, of course, and got really excited and demanding; shouting at the storekeeper and pointing at the pyjamas while he wrapped them up for her. He knew who to hand the bag to when he was finished: Rachel.

She stuck her hand out and graciously took the bag and carried it around the rest of the time we were shopping. She pulled Grandma and I along, so that we could see what she wanted to look at and go where she wanted to go. She looked at bracelets and toy camels and everything else imaginable, always hoping that we would buy her something else and always upset that we never did.

Hot deal over here, Grandma!

Our last stop was a little silver shop by the flyover. Rachel had fun playing with one of the storekeepers while Karen and I looked at some jewlery. After we'd made our final purchase, the chashier threw some keychains into the deal.

"Here, Rachel," I said, hoping that she'd think the little camel keychain was cool enough to ignore the stuffed camels until we could get out of here, "This is for you!"

Rachel whipped her hand up, grabbed the keychain, and stuffed it in her bag with her pyjamas. Then she sauntered happily out of the store on her very first shopper's high.

She was only too happy to walk home carrying her little package the whole way so that she could model her pyjamas for Daddy.

There's a camel on my jammies!

And one here...

...and one here!

Modeling pyjamas was a great little segue into B-E-D, and although she screamed about it, she was really quite exhausted from all her shopping!