A Lady Named Nelly

Our Nelly just keeps growing up and growing up, so here it is-- the latest collection of stories and trivia about Nelly:

Sometimes we tease Nelly about being some other person than herself, such as Mona. Her standard reply is to say, with self-conscious dignity and sometimes with severity: I'm not Mona. I'm a yaney named Newwy. If we ask her who she is, the reply is always the same--a lady named Nelly.

Nelly loves being pretty, and she exuberantly loves seeing other people be pretty. I sometimes put on my makeup while Nelly watches from the toilet, and often I hear, "Ohhhhh, Mommy, you yook so pwenny!" Or a running stream of commentary, punctuated with giggles: Oh, Mommy, you pud on your mate-up? Heh-heh, why you pud on your hnap-snick (chapstick/lipstick)? Tan I have some hnap-snick, Mommy? Oh, you yook so pwenny, Mommy!

When I offer to paint her nails or anything else especially good, "Wwwwweeeeawwy? Weeeawwy, Mommy? Oh, hyank-you, Mommy!"

When the paint in the end comes off her nails, as all paint eventually must do (let the materialists among us beware): "My finner tumming off, Mommy." This last can be a bit alarming, given no warning. Soon I will try to teach her that the paint coming up is not the same as the digit itself coming off.

Like all women, given the choice, Nelly prefers to be beautiful; but unlike many women, she has a strong sense of realism about the matter, conditioned upon the state of her nails and her hair. She has been known to glaringly say (from her perch upon the toilet) "No, I'm not pwenny."

Moving on from this frivolous topic of personal beauty...the kids have begun playing war. They enjoy naval battles particularly, but they also kill bad guys on land, in great numbers and on an individual basis, not involving the state or local government overmuch. This afternoon Nelly rounded a corner at a high speed, brandishing a sword with vigor and evidently in pursuit of evil incarnate. But then, catching sight of Mona, her warlike demeanor changed. A softer light infused her countenance, she lowered her weapon and said, "Oh, Moni, I won't till you. You're a hweet mamy."