An afternoon of glamor while Peter sleeps

Every so often, I ask Charlotte if I can paint her toenails.  "NO!"  I wait a while and then test the waters again.  "NO!"  I explain to her that she can be just like her buddy, Madison, who sports a new manicure/pedicure every other week or so (her mom, Melissa, recently revealed that she brilliantly uses the nail polish as an incentive for Madison to cooperate with nail trimming sessions).  I have no problems getting Charlotte to let me cut her nails, but she never wants them painted.

The one and only other time she ever consented to it was over a year ago.  She immediately had buyer's remorse and insisted she wanted her toenails back.  Today, Charlotte asked me if she could see photos from last Thanksgiving (we were talking about how she and her cousins were all wearing matching jammies).  We looked at some other old blog posts (ah, the modern photo album) and came across the one with photos of her painted toenails.  She immediately requested that I paint her toenails and gleefully ran into my bathroom to help find the nail polish.  I was flabbergasted, but complied.  Then she wanted me to have matching toes.

I gave her the hairdryer to use to help speed up the drying process, and she thought this was hilarious.  I only got a shot of that with my cruddy cell phone camera.

Don't her little piggies look glamorous?  Someday, maybe she'll let me actually put barrettes or headbands in her hair and then keep them in there for longer than three seconds.

Matching toes!!

I turned on the TV to keep her still (and on the old, nasty carpet) while the polish hardened.  That child is a TV zombie.

Maybe next week, we'll dye some streaks in her hair.  JUST KIDDING, COREY!