I’ve definitely raised the Little Lady to be a girly-girl.
Thanks to her Neena and Gramie, who have kept her supplied with baby dolls, frou-frou clothing, and tights, this little girl knows how to look good. In fact, pretty is one of her favorite words! It did not take long at all for her to understand and use that word. After she started walking and was protesting the conformity of shoes, if we told her that her shoes were “pretty” and that she was a “pretty girl,” she would grin and point down, showing off those pretty shoes and leaving them on her fat feet.
Now, she absolutely adores shoes and wants to wear them all the time. The Little Lady even wants her Mommy and Daddy to wear their shoes, as she proves by constantly bringing our shoes to the correct owner. Of course, there really is a hidden agenda behind this act — she knows that when we put our shoes on it means we’re going outside. She likes to help us out with this since it means she can go see the puppies.
Since I’ve transformed into a “stay at home mom,” my daily appearance has changed as well. I no longer worry about flawless make-up, carefully ironed clothing, or glossy curls. Whereas I used to shower every morning, these days I’m lucky to even wash my face! It’s so sad and so far from where I used to be.
Yesterday, apparently the Little Lady decided I had dressed down long enough. Personally, I don’t think my appearance was utterly atrocious, but it probably would have warranted a visit from Stacy and Clinton had anyone secretly video-taped me. You see, I was wearing (gasp) one of my husband’s old t-shirts!
I admit, I probably raid his side of the closet more often than I should, but his shirts are comfortable and I don’t have to worry about them. The Little Lady decides to smear blue-berries over all the world? No problem — I’m wearing Daddy’s shirt.
But, as I said, she’d had enough of this yesterday. I was trying to load the dishwasher when I heard her little hot pink sandals click-clacking toward me. Looking up, I saw her little arm holding out one of my silky dress shirts that she had confiscated from the folded laundry on the couch. I thanked her for it before throwing it back on the couch. Several times over the next few minutes, this scenario repeated itself. The Little Lady kept going back for it, intent on bringing it to me. Finally, trying to end the game I assumed she was playing, I placed it on the kitchen counter. That didn’t end things. She kept pointing, looking back and forth from the shirt to me, and saying her catch-all phrase, “Hmm!”
“I’m trying to do the dishes! I can’t play right now!!”
“What? What do you want me to do?”
“Hmm?” She was still pointing at that shirt
“Do you want me to put it on? Will that make you happy so I can finish?” So, right there in the kitchen, I took off Hubby’s ratty Texas A&M baseball shirt and pulled the dressy sleeveless blouse over my tangled curls.
I threw my hands up. “Is that better.”
The Little Lady nodded, turned around, and clickity-clacked off toward her dolls. Her work was finished.
I don’t know whether to be impressed or depressed by what happened yesterday. My baby is embarrassed by what I wear!