For the Love of Pickles

Carys came into our room at midnight last night because she urgently needed to tell us all the reasons she loves pickles. First of all, she loves the way they make that snapping noise. Secondly, she loves their color. Secondly, she loves their little crunchiness. And secondly, she likes the little bit of sourness.

All the secondlys are hers. I cannot take credit for them.

She's excited about the little jar of French cornichons we have in the refrigerator that I wouldn't let her open last night because we're saving them to go with the hamburgers and hotdogs we're going to have to celebrate Solenn's birthday tonight. She woke up not because of the cake and ice cream.

Because of the pickles.

This is the drawing she made on our kitchen whiteboard last night:



In case you can't read (a frequent problem in our house these days) it says "hape bfta", which could otherwise be spelled, "happy birthday!" Yes, those are balloons. And Hape Bfta is in a speech bubble. But we don't know who's speaking... I'll have to investigate further. Maybe it's a pickle.

In other news, Carys' kindergarten teachers have mistakenly informed her that Elemelo is not a letter in the alphabet, and that (secondly) the second S has been replaced by a new and mysterious letter called X. Very sad.

Secondly, her sister rudely pulled out her very first loose tooth. I was enjoying that tooth.

At least we can still sing Bla Bla Blacksheep together.