Last night, we left the kids with a sitter and went out to dinner. The kids are getting to be pros at the babysitter thing (yay for grown up dinners where I actually get to, like, EAT!) and all went very well at home. Other than a quick call from the babysitter to me, where she put Anderson on speaker phone so I could translate what it was he was trying to tell her he needed before he could go to sleep (Anderson saying "udder bwankie" sounds to babysitter like "water binky" sounds to mama like "other blankie, I will not go to sleep unless I have BOTH of my blankies, how many times do I have to TELL YOU THIS BABYSITTER GIRL?!") And then. Later, when I'm driving the sitter home, she casually mentions that Vivian was good as gold, as usual. Except when said sitter tried to remove V's tutu for bedtime. Apparently there was a struggle, and V was victorious. So, the sitter said, that's why she's sleeping in a tutu.
I got home, snuck into her room, and sure enough. My girl, asleep like this:
Oh, Vivi. That can't even be comfy, but I guess she knows that sometimes, a girl has to hurt for fashion. She's even got the drama queen pose down. Fabulousity, that Miss V.
(For the record, I took it off. I was torn about whether to, but the yards of elastic and tulle and their stretchy chokeworthy qualities finally convinced me to yank it off of her. DIVA WAS NOT IMPRESSED, for the record.)