What Ever Makes You Happy

Got home yesterday and the lack of sleep Sunday night was obviously taking its toll.  I walked through the doors and could hear Arianna screaming bloody murder from her room, so I dropped everything and rushed to her side.  Nearly 20 minutes of sobbing later I was able to piece together that she had peed in her pull up during nap time and when my sister-in-law (Gina was at yoga) took her to go potty after she woke up her embarrassment manifest in a meltdown.  Oh the weight of the world at 2.  Of course my poor sister-in-laws couldn't figure out what the deal was (oh, the ability of a parent to understand grunts, squeels, screams and moans and "Sherlock Holmes" the rest).  I figured we all needed a distraction so I told the girls to grab their shoes; we were going for a walk outside (it's officially spring and we live in Southern California. ... what right do we have to be in doors while the sun is still shining?!).  I'm strapping the baby in to her carrier - which, in hot pink, looks really good strapped across my chest - and Arianna comes in to the room, hint of stammer still hanging on her lips as evidence of the trauma.  She asks me if she can bring "baby Belle" with her.  Of course, I say.  Now, baby Belle can refer to any one of three Beauty and the Beast dolls that she has accumulated in her short life time, all which are more than appropriate for a walk around the block. .... or so I assumed.  As we head through the door, however, I notice she's not carrying any dolls in her arms.  Instead, she's firmly gripping a new pair of underwear; Beauty and the Beast underwear to be specific.  I'm guessing, in her mind, this somehow ties in to the whole "accident" during nap time and she wants to be prepared. ... but I don't ask.  If carrying a pair of panties with her as we walk around the block is going to make her happy than I'm on board with it.  So long as you don't ask me to start bringing along my Calvin's.