Step one. Boots on. Git yer bootson. That's alloneword, in case you didn't know. The pink boots were a Christmas gift from Oma, and may I just say, since we don't care to ever take them off, it is rather handy that we happen to live in the Lone Star State, where pink boots officially go with any and all attire. Including, but not limited to, Dora the Explorer pajamas. Or a cute knitted dress with a crocheted flower that Mom scored off the clearance rack at Target.
Step Two. Grab Butterfly, the much loved Christmas present from Opa, who has been ridden approximately 7,000 miles since Christmas morn. Hoist on up there sidesaddle. Very sassy!!
When a cowgirl needs speed, she needs her stickhorse, the beloved Christmas gift from Nana and Papa. While Butterfly gets put to pasture in the den, stickhorse runs like a wild stallion through the entire house. Complete with sound effects.
Pink hat. Check. Resting right on that enormous pink flower I managed to coax into her hair. It's western day, so she was feeling rather agreeable. I took full advantage.
(Perhaps you've noticed that the entirety of western day is brought to you compliments of Christmas morning.)
(Moment of silence.)
My boys got these vests when they were about Emma's age. Every single time I think back on them in the toddler years, I envision them wearing these vests. All day. Every day. Naptimes too. Oh, the miles we put on these vests! L-O-V-E-D to pieces. I packed them away in the baby box on the top of the boys' closet, and when Max came up with the idea this morning of getting one down for western day, I took my own happy trail ride down memory lane.
It's so good to see her in this little vest. I'm hoping it makes a permanent appearance for the next several years, and that it brings as much fun and happiness to her as it did to her brothers!
Little cowgirls don't stay little very long. Today they're packing up their stick horse for mother's day out, and tomorrow they're packing up their Honda Civic to head off to college....far, far away. Don't ask me how I know this. (There'll be tear in my beer.)