week fourteen

This is a contented girl.

She's in a cami because we had spaghetti for dinner, which is her current favorite. She's wearing a twirly skirt sent from a friend in England and boots from a friend in the US. Both of them are new to her and still a little big--but great for being a cowgirl.

On her lap is the last last, huge, piece of carrot cake from Easter.

She's enjoying the nearly-unheard-of treat of eating in the living room. She asked for a picnic and then settled herself in our monster of a couch--which is incredibly comfortable.

(My camera with no flash is always blurry despite breath-holding and bracing.)

After eating all that cake she looked at me and asked, "Is your tummy a little sick? Do you have to bleh?" I admit to laughing at her and saying that my tummy was fine. I asked if she needed to throw up and she indignantly told me, "No! I don't need to throw up!...Maybe I need to lie down." She proceeded to carefully do so and then asked, "Will you get the bowl?" When I informed her that if she was feeling like throwing up we should go to the toilet, she decided she was fine, but continued to lie down.

She scoffed at the idea that she felt bad from too much cake. Clearly, she thinks too much cake is an oxymoron.