The Incarnation of Froggy

Carter Lilly has always been a somewhat of a quirky kid, and I am fairly accustomed to her passing phases of randomness. So I was not surprised when just after Christmas she began demanding kindly requesting that we call her a new name: Froggy. Initially she'd only ask once or so every day, but as time passed, it became a more regular request.  If she was tired, this request sounded more like a shrill-like shout of, 'I'm not Carter! I'm a frog! Call me Froggy!' I obliged her request whenever she asked politely or restated the shriek in a kind voice. After several days, she decided to rename the whole family. I became Elephant, my husband became Birdie, and sweet Murphy became Lollipop. She often had to remind us of our newly established nomenclatures and was quick to point out times when we were forgetting them. How thoughtful.
After a couple weeks of this being strictly an immediate family thing, Carter began renaming many other important people in her life: her teacher became Cakepop; her soccer coach became Soccer Ball; her babysitter became Dinosaur; and two friends became Sippy Cup and Snowflake. During a visit with our cousins, she renamed their family of four Pancake, Syrup, Banana, and Cookie. All this was fine and good, though admittedly hard to keep up with, until she added a request that went a bit beyond a mere name change: she began begging me to paint her entire body GREEN. I was able to curb that request with simple distractions until she became hyper-focused on the idea while I was putting her to bed on Wednesday night. She began pleading with me to paint her green the next day. I reminded her that it was a school day and that green simply does not comply with the school's dress code.
She didn't mention the painting on Thursday morning, but just as soon as she hopped in the car after school, she once again began begging to be green. I casually told her that I would paint her green after soccer practice (hoping, of course that she would forget all about it by the time soccer was over.) On the contrary, the entirety of our conversation on our car ride home revolved around the logistics of the upcoming painting... Where are we gonna do it? You're not gonna paint my eyes or my wips, are you Mommy? Murphy can just watch... and so on and so on.
Once we got in the door, I reluctantly agreed that if she'd be patient while I got Murphy Girl situated in the highchair for her second dinner of the evening, I'd paint my dear Froggy green. Despite usually being a major wiggle worm, she was quite still for the entire process. She followed directions well and only shuttered a couple times because the paint was frio (my Froggy speaks a bit of Spanish.) Though no grown up was home to help me capture the creative progress, I did snap several pics of the finished product.

Feast your eyes upon The Incarnation of Froggy!

I have never seen a more 

genuine smile on this child's face.

Squealing with pure delight!

This was no half-done paint job!

Checking out herself in the mirror. 

And what would a Froggy be 

without her frog squat?

I think this blog proves that as a Mommy, I am never quite sure what a day might entail. (Really, I couldn't make this stuff up if I tried!) I'd like to hope that one day my Froggy (or whatever name she's answering to at the time) will look back on this and think, 'Wow! My mom was so cool to help me explore my imaginative and creative side by painting me like a frog!' My fear, however, is that she will say, 'My mom painted me head to toe and front to back green when I was three years old? I didn't stand a chance! No wonder people think I'm weird!' Whether or not she's appreciative of the gesture or just simply disturbed, this is a memory too quirky unique not to capture. Ribbit.