This, my friends, is a rotten pickle...
showing off in her garden....of weeds. (Also, every picture is better with a cozy coupe in the background.)
She is proud to be a rotten pickle.
Let me explain.
You know how kids say, "Last one is a rotten egg!" Well, Mary says, "Last one is a rotten pickle!" Except that if you WIN, you are the rotten pickle. And winning is good. So Mary will race to the car, announcing, "Last one is a rotten pickle!" Then she'll smoke us all, reach the car first, and announce, "I win! I'm the rotten pickle!!"
It's just too cute to correct her.
I also haven't told her that the doorbell is not a "ding-bell." "Ding-bell" is a much better word, I think. And I've adopted her usage of the term "pony hair." Instead of asking her if she wants pigtails, I ask if she wants "pony hair." Sometimes she likes "pony hair," other days she prefers "no pony hair." And, as she explained to me, when her hair gets long enough, she can have "pony hair" in the back.
She's a rotten pickle. And proud of it!
I sure do love my rotten pickle.
