Britt loves bubbles. Bubble baths, bubbles in the kitchen sink when I'm washing dishes, or blowing bubbles from a bottle of liquid soap -- it doesn't matter. She loves them all.
Bubble baths are no issue, but I can hardly wash dishes in peace with her underfoot, begging for handfuls of suds to scatter around the house. And she makes an awful mess with the bottled bubble solution since she always wants to be the one holding it, and that's why it always stays hidden away with the Play-Dough and the Floam, only to be brought out as a special treat.
And now, Britt has her very own bubble machine.
It looks like it was blowing her hair back here, but it wasn't:
Well, it did blow her hair back in that sense. She was absolutely delighted with it, and danced about with joy:
And then she just sat and stared at it in awed wonder:
It's a lot easier to deal with than the bottled stuff, as long as she's not trying to carry it around with her, because it does spill. But it was just the ticket -- she loves it.
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