She was Tutankhamun for the third grade wax museum:
She was responsible for engineering all of that costume except the makeup, for which I am to be held accountable: plenty of my eyeliner and bronzer, the last of which did make her skin look a little darker, but it was less "ancient Egyptian king" darker and more "too much fake tan on a white girl" darker. It was somewhat orange and reminded me of those two girls who sat in front of me in an A&P class I took in college. I only remember them because of their blinding orange hue, streakey blonde hair, and conversation that made me want to kill myself rather than have my IQ drop any lower just from accidentally overhearing the things they talked about.
Adelaide did a nice job, had the informational speech she'd written about King Tut fully memorized and ready to recite over and over and over to any who walked by and pushed her "button" (that red dot near her shoulder). Step 1: Have kid research historical figure in order to create a costume. Step 2: Write a 1-2 page report on chosen person in history. Step 3: Get the kids amped up about their families coming to see them dressed up in fun costumes, have them repeat that report so many times that they have that information memorized for the rest of their lives. You certainly know what you're doing, Ballard third grade teachers.
We also went to the driving range one warm evening, where Adelaide pretended to be a golfer. The three kids and Derek swung metal poles at little balls. I took pictures.
If you spend any time at our house, you quickly begin to notice that our boys have this somewhat strange practice where they watch Derek and then rearrange their limbs and voices and way they move to reflect whatever he's currently doing. It's not one of those obnoxious games of mimicry, but more a form of intense hero worship that I by turns find adorable and disturbing.
It seems to help, however, when Derek is teaching them to golf. They've already tuned their movements into his, so copying whatever he does comes naturally to them.
Adelaide was dispatched to get a bucket of balls shortly after we arrived. See that bundle of fabric she has stashed in the crook of her right arm?
It turned out to contain an array of nail polish she'd smuggled onto the range. "Moooom, can't I please paint my nails while the boys are all playing? I'd like to get something useful done while we're here."
After being denied her "useful" occupation, she decided she might as well hit a few balls herself.
Never mind the temptation I felt upon seeing those pretty bottles of polish. This was for her own good. Or something.