Bubbles

Eleanor came downstairs for breakfast this morning and was in a particualarly spunky mood. I asked her if she slept well and if she had happy dreams. She starts flitting around the kitchen singing this...

"Mommy, I DID have happy dreams! I dreamed about fairies, and giants, and toadstools, and ballerinas, and princesses, and butterflies, and magic, and mermaid lagoons, and pixies, and...and...and....BUBBLES!"


Yes, the girl loves bubbles. She's all about them. Elliot next door gave her a "Bubble Buddy" for her birthday in May. I put it away for safe keeping thinking there just might be a time, in the hot dulldrums of August, when a new, fun toy just might help get us through a week.

I was right. And this was the week.

So I pull out this toy from the tippy top shelf and the kids were mediately clamoring to get to it. They didn't really know what it was, but they for sure wanted it. This was poor planning on my part because, of course, there were sixteen billion plastic things strapped to it, it needed batteries, and I had no idea how to get the bubble juice actually into his bubble buddy belly.

Fifteen minutes later, the kids have moved on to another activity (aka Jon David raiding the pantry) and Eleanor comes back into to check on me. Bless her. She picks up the enclosed paperwork that came with the stupid toy and tells me in her sweetest, big helper, biggie girl voice, "Mommy, maybe you should try reading the inrections."

Ehem. Close one, huh?

So I did. And she was right.

So, without further ado, meet Diney, our Bubble Buddy.