Him: Oh My God!
Him: There are no fewer than three hosts on this talk show wearing platform shoes.
Me: *blank stare*
Him: You know ... they're shoes that are almost as thick at the toe as they are in the heel and they make you super tall?
Me: Ah, yeah ... I know what platform shoes are, I just don't understand the significance of your surprise.
Him: I ... Just ... I mean ... People used to put goldfish in shoes like those, forgodssake.
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
Monday, January 30, 2012
Friday, January 27, 2012
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
Monday, January 23, 2012
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
Saturday, January 14, 2012
Looking cute. Cuddling. Cleaning up food that drops on the floor. ... She's got those tasks down really well.
But if she REALLY wants to fit in, though, she's going to have to learn to jump on the furniture, chew up some of the kids' toys and be at least a tiny bit annoying.
Tomorrow's another day for her to get with the program.
Friday, January 13, 2012
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
Thursday, January 05, 2012
The dress swung when she moved. It shimmered, too.
I gave it to her thinking it would be worn to the New Year's Eve party we'd attend as a family ... only the rest of us would be wearing jeans ... or pajamas.
She's the one who understands the value of dressing up, even if you're just going to play Tag, or Hide-and-Seek, or King of the Laundry Mountain in your best friend's basement.
To each their own.
Since I ended up spending most of the holiday season floundering on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, she ended up missing that party and wearing the dress on an ordinary Thursday ... paired with black leggings and a rainbow-edged wrap sweater (which she probably stashed in her backpack the instant she sat in her seat on the bus).
She's never been one for excessive layering.
She allowed me to take a photograph when she came home in the afternoon.
As she stood by the tree and swung the dress -- slowly and rhythmically as if an audience was watching -- I was reminded of her four-year-old self ... when I'd gotten her a similar frock. She'd swung that dress, too. Only she'd twirled and twirled until she'd gotten dizzy and had to sit down.
Sometimes I think she's lost that abandon. She only finds it again ... when no one is watching.
It's so subtle ... this difference.
She's not a little girl anymore. And yet, she is.