. . . the fancy

Every single day, Averie asks to dress up.  Sometimes this means in actual costume, like on her birthday when she decided to become Francisco the Party-Indian.  Most often, she just wants to dress up: ball gown or other suitable dress, tights, shoes, ribbons, jewelry, tiara, the works.  Nearly every single day, Mama lets her.  Because really, how many days in the life of a grown-up can one spend wearing an extravagant ball gown?

And so, day in and day out, the girly-est of girls finishes her breakfast, requests a wardrobe change, and proceeds through the rest of her day bedecked in her finest, fanciest fashion.  It's how we do school, how we eat lunch, how we clean up, how we nap.  The big sister doesn't leave her 'baby' out of the fun either, and always makes sure her little sister has something equally fine and fancy to slip into.

Knowing her penchant for the fancy in all areas of her life, we-the-parents were only mildly surprised (but still greatly amused) when she expressed her fondness for the automobile she glimpsed in the Waffle House parking lot:

"I'm a fan of fancy blue cars with fancy headlights."

Equally fancy is her recently adopted standard reply to her Dadoo's requests ...

Dadoo:  "Averie, will you pick up the cereal that's spilled all over the floor and take it to the trash?"
Averie: "Word up."

Yeah. Fancy that.