I've realized with both a sense of amusement and a little bit of wariness that I'm most definitely raising a New Orleans girl. E can dance with the best of them (unlike her pathetic mother) when we go somewhere like Satchmo Fest to see the Soul Rebels, Rebirth, etc. She's right up there shaking her thing and having a grand old time.
I read a post on Dangerblond's website recently, where she was reminiscing about being in elementary school and making miniature Mardi Gras floats. Today, E is wearing a sash to daycare and is campaigning to be queen of their parade, which will be held next week. I was quite proud of myself for making a sash out of a yellow plastic tablecloth and a purple feather boa from the Dollar Store. As K said, neither of us knew I was so crafty.
Needless to say, I didn't grow up learning about Mardi Gras, what the colors purple, green and gold stand for, etc. It's not real high on the priority list in Georgia. So it's funny to listen to my not-yet three-year-old daughter tell me all about what she learned in school about "Mardigrr." (She's still working on the pronunciation.) I'm really getting a kick out of seeing what Mardigrr is all about through her eyes, as well--toys and beads, of course.
Last night, we were playing with her little Fisher Price dollhouse. E piled all of the plastic dolls into the station wagon so they could take a trip. Usually, if you ask her where they're going, she'll tell you to the store. Last night, she informed me that they were going to Mardigrr. So the dolls all rode across the bedroom in their station wagon, then she had them all climb out next to her wicker dresser, which is painted green. As one of the Mardigrr colors was involved, E thought the wicker dresser was a fine place for the dolls to watch and participate in the parade. And then she made them all scream their little heads off, shouting "throw me something." I think they had a good time.