Fancy-pants

Poppy recently discovered the bag of dress-up clothes and jewelry my mother left here last time she visited. I had hidden the bag in my closet, intending to save it for a literal rainy (or snowy) day, when indoor distractions are more necessary. 

She found it*, though, and I can't be too annoyed, because just look at this:

She also brushed her own hair just before this, which is why it has so much, ahem, volume.

(Sparkly pants courtesy of my sister-in-law, who sent some of my niece's outgrown things and this pair of pants immediately became the favorites here.)

She actually decided she doesn't like the tiaras, so I might have to wear those myself.

This girl has zero examples of ultra-feminine style. I certainly don't fill that roll, and the only other inhabitants of this household are bucks. If you'll pardon the woodchuck expression. 

So I guess this great desire for sparkly things is just hardwired.

And also hilarious.

* She found it because I had to clear everything out of the closet to investigate the mouse scurryings we were hearing at four in the morning. Which is when I discovered the little cache of nuts the rodent had stolen from the pantry and secreted away in between the folds of a blanket. GROOOOOOSSSSSS.