Smoothie

Danny is our resident smoothie pro.  The guy can mix up a pretty outstanding icy cold, fruity extravaganza with a handful of random ingredients.  I love him for this talent. 

Thankfully, the kids also share in my awe and appreciation of their dad on this particular skill.  The word "smoothie" was an early favorite in the vocabulary of all four of my children.  G will now say "moo-die" and point at the blender, and we all know exactly what she means, in fact, we're all usually thinking the same thing. 

Today, Danny whipped up a berry concoction.  It was dark purple; the color that makes most moms cry, since they know they will spend quality time scrubbing it out of a cushion, the carpet, or both.  G heard the blender working its magic, saw the delicious end result, said the magic word, and was plopped into her highchair with a tall one. 

Only.....she doesn't fully appreciate the beauty of a regular cup.  She's still a sippy cup girl.  Sippy cups have lids--for good reason. 

The berry smoothie tasted pretty good, but she decided it would work quite a bit better as hair gel.

She was right.

"Look!  I got it all over my hands! Isn't this great?!"

"Uh oh.  Maybe it's not so great."

"I don't like sticky hands."

This is G's, "OK, I have had enough of the camera, the laughter, the jokes at my expense.  Now please pull me out of here and get me cleaned up.   I'm serious,"  look.

That smoothie went fast.  I was tempted by this lovely scene to have a small glass.  Then I remembered my 9 pounds of victory, and held off. 

Now you may be asking yourself, where is J.D. in all this purple chaos?

J.D. was in his crib.  He spent some alone time contemplating this little unfortunate spill on the living room couch.  Danny valiantly swooped in and cleaned it up, and I don't see a hint of purple.  Oh, and no tears were shed during the incident or in the re-telling of this tale....by this mom anyway.