Oh, what an eventful past few days we've had. LPT has discovered the joys of glitter, and now our house had officially been glamourised. She glittered D's XBox, our TV, the credenza upon which all the entertainment technology rests, my office chair, the bathroom rug, and of course, me and D over and over. She also spilled it on her dress she was wearing at the time (more on that later) so that when you pick the item of clothing up, it acts as a huge glitter-dispersal unit. LPT also discovered the slightly evil side of glitter since she had it all over hands, and thus her thumb, and decided that glitter may be pretty, but it sure tastes like poo.

The dress of which I speak was no average dress, mind you. My mother went to T.J. Maxx and found a bridal costume for small children. It almost looks like a communion dress, but you can tell it's a costume. It white (duh) and the floor-length skirt has a giant hoop in it. LPT refuses to wear it unless she can have her "heels and lipstick," because really, who wants to be all gussied up and short with pale lips? And of course, since we had to run errands yesterday, and D foolishly told her she could wear a dress, she chose to go out and about as a princess bride, calling everyone "her buddy." (Seriously. First it was the Silver Surfer display at Circuit City, then it was a random african american man in the parking lot, then it was a lady in the car next to us at the stop light.)

Then there was the moment in the tub when she responded loudly to an persnickety toy: "I mean SERIOUSLY!"

And my favorite story of all this weekend, and D will probably hold it against me forever that I told, but here goes. Ok, D sleeps (as I am sure many do) in boxer shorts and a t-shirt. And being a guy, when he wakes up...you know what I mean. He usually goes straight to the bathroom without interruptions, but on Friday morning LPT stopped him in the living room. She gave him a once-over, and then asked, "Hey Daddy, what's that inyour pocket?" I was drinking some water at that moment and nearly choked. D turned red and tried (in vain) to get to the bathroom without further comment, but LPT, ever persistent, followed him until he shut the door in her face, asking "C'mon Daddy! Tell me what's in your pocket!" It took a lot of self-control on my part not to let loose with a string of uncouth jokes, but I had to tell myself again and again that she is three and wouldn't get them anyway. I hope.