Tea, Tea, Glorious Tea!

There is nothing finer than a tea party, according to Chrissie. About two months ago, I was feeling guilty that Chrissie wasn't getting as much attention from me with a new baby in the family. So, I decided to have a little tea party with her. We wore dresses, hats, and "slippers" (my high heel shoes, it comes from Cinderella's glass slippers). We had raspberry tea with various finger foods, and had one on one conversation (mainly Chrissie just talked in a mumbling, rambling sort of a way while I listened and replied, "oh really!" Chrissie and I often have these "conversations," which primarily occur while I'm doing housework. She will sit there, flip through a book, and just ramble on and on about something. Or she will ask me, "What should we talk about?).
From that moment on Chrissie became a tea party lover, "Mommy should we have a tea party? Should we? That would be fun?!" She would daily request a tea party. She would make me wear the exact dress I wore the first time, requested the exact same food, but, she forgo the raspberry tea and just wanted water; this all became a bit cumbersome. However, as tea parties became more frequent she fortunately demanded less.
And, now, she is having at least five tea parties a day. She is always bringing me tea no matter where or what I am doing. She even brings tea to Rick while he is taking a shower. Or she will set the table for us to have tea while I am busy in another room and then run to where I am and say, "should we have some tea?" And, of course, I accept. The other night as I was tucking her into bed, she sat up and said, "We need to have some tea!"
Our home has become quite British as Chrissie offers tea to any of our visitors. I love it. I love seeing her imagination at work. She doesn't just offer tea in the traditional tea sets. She pours tea into her various dishes, from cupcake pans, to bunt pans, to plates, etc. And she does this every day, multiple times a day. And for some reason, watching her have a tea party with her toys, animals, or me, never gets old--only sweeter.