This past weekend, then we attended Starbase Indy.
It was Ireland and Scotland's first Star Trek convention.
While it was 3-day event, they only went on Saturday.
Ireland started out the day in full Klingon armor and makeup.
During the Klingon Language Panel, she decided she no longer wanted to be a Klingon and ripped off the forehead and her gauntlets. The rest of the uniform stayed on mostly because she couldn't easily remove it.
As a three-year-old, she naturally had her good moments and not-so-good moments.
She enjoyed seeing the other Klingons, and running around.
The only character she shyed away from was a green Big Bad Wolf.
After a 2-3 hour nap, she woke up just in time to see more Klingons arrive.
It just so happened that a Klingon girl slightly older than her was with them.
After a tantrum or two, she calmed down and decided that she wanted to find the Klingons.
She found the girl and they hit it off instantly, comparing uniforms and all sorts of little girl talk.
Can't wait to take her again.
Monday, November 30, 2009
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
For some reason, Ireland refuses to accept her royal status.
"I'm a Princess, all girls are."
Whenever we try to get her to wear a dress, she proclaims her commoner status.
She'll call Dalyn a Princess, she'll accept her cartoon characters dressing up as Princesses.
But for some reason "I'm not a Princess, I'm Ireland" always shines through.
It could be as simple as not wanting to wear a dress. From what I hear, they're not always comfortable.
It could be that Princesses are always being attacked by bad guys and evil Queens.
By the time she's old enough to answer the question, she'll be too old to.
She turned three on the 7th.
Dalyn bought her a very pretty hoop dress that any young lady would love to wear.
Ireland refused it outright and offered it to Dalyn to wear.
"You be a Princess."
Maybe she's a tomboy in the making.
For the past few weeks, she's seen me get ready for All Hallows Eve, and dress up as a Klingon.
She's been begging to be a Klingon.
"I want to be a Klingon.
Where's my makeup?
Where's my forehead?
I don't have a sword."
A few days ago I found her applying dark brown makeup to her face with a cosmetic sponge. She had my latex forehead in the other hand.
Last night (Thanks go out to qurgh and Erin), a child-size Klingon uniform showed up.
She lit right up.
She was uber-excited.
She gladly put it on (she's not too fond of getting dressed) and poudly showed everyone she could.
And then asked for her makeup.
We'll need to do a few alterations to get it fitting right, but it's well on the way to being a favorite item.
This morning, just minutes after coming downstairs, she went right over to where she left her uniform, and started putting it on herself.
I had to help her with the zipper, but she was dressed and ready for battle in notime.
And then she looked down and asked for her sword.