Today’s outfit brought to you by…the garage sale box.
Miss Thang raided the ‘trash’ and the ‘garage sale box’ last night. The results? A pink piggy dress. White ‘tights’ that may have fit when she as a year old but certainly don’t now. White is also being a little generous. They are actually more gray than white. On her feet? 2 mismatched faux princess shoes. The plastic kind with hard plastic bottoms that TWACK when she walks. One is white, the other hot pink. It’s hard to tell since they are PLAY shoes but I am fairly certain that they are both the same feet.
We got out of the car today and she slipped on her princess mules. Problem number 1—the tights, remember the tights? The plastic-slip-on-shoes don’t work so well with tights. She kept slipping and sliding OFF her shoes—like some drunken street walker. To help balance herself out she had a book bag in each hand. Yes, every pre-school child needs to carry in 2 book bags. One was leopard print with neon trim and the other purple with curly ribbons streaming down and trailing on the ground. Tucked under one chubby arm was a purple care bear. Problem number 2-the plastic mules were obviously intended for a much younger princess since, when she can keep them on her feet, ½ her foot hangs off the back. I kept praying for the plastic to break under the weight but luck was not on my side and the offensive ‘shoes’ stayed intact.
So—we have on a green dress with pink marker all up the back that I didn’t notice until walking behind her into the school. Gray tights with black smudges about mid-calf that had obviously been made by some dirty foot at some point. TWACK, slip, TWACH, fall, TWACK, slip shoes. 2 book bags stuffed to the brim with ‘stuff’ (probably the remainder of the garage sale box she swiped the shoes from) and a care bear stuck under one chubby arm.
Yesterday she wore her hair in tight braids. Today, we see the residual effects of wearing tight braids. Little braids are cute. Results of little braids, not so much, because braids left in cause zany, crazy hair that sticks out about 12 inches away from her head in all directions. Her sister, that precious (NOT) child had obviously handed her a S’mores pop-tart at some point during the car ride this morning. I know this because her nose has a dab of marshmallow cream and her face has chocolate on both sides. She obviously chomped right down the center of the pop-tart so the chocolate cream reaches all the way to her ears. At some point during the car ride she complained about being thirsty…probably from the gooey-poptart and asked for my diet coke. I handed it to her but must have slammed on my breaks immediately after because there is now a diet coke trail starting at the collar of the pink-piggy dress and ending up about waist level.
We must have looked like the misfit parade waddling down the long hallway to her classroom this morning. Mid-way there with the TWACKS echoing so loudly in the hallway that teachers were having to close their doors, I finally had her take them off. The parade moved at a much quicker pace…or as quick as you can expect loaded down with 2 loaded down book bags, a care bear, an extra pair of shoes and 2 plastic princess shoes. What I didn’t have in hand was the required blanket for nap-time, the required water bottle for playground time or the change of ‘appropriate seasonal clothes’ for cubby. Happy Monday.
Inside the classroom her friends are all sitting down to eat. When we walk in one of her girlfriends squeals, “PRINCESS SHOES” forgetting that she’s not allowed to talk to my shy girl until after she has transitioned from me to the teacher. So…thumb goes into mouth and she scurries to hide between my legs. I have on a dress. A flowy, short dress to be more precise. Having a tall, wide 4 year old trying to take cover does not bode well for said dress. I try and stop the rise of the hem while at the same time trying to dislodge the child and not drop the princess shoes.
Despite my best efforts, I mistakenly make eye contact with the teacher. There is nothing to do but to admit, “She insisted on these shoes, I know the tights are gross and that is pop-tart on her face (I was suddenly aware that the chocolate smudges looked liked something else) and I am going to try and do something with her hair,” the teacher, knowing me laughs, “…but we are HERE.” To which another mother replied wearily, “which is saying something for a Monday!” I looked over to find her child with arms raised as another teacher shoved a thermometer under his arm. Alllllrightyyyyyy. My day just started looking a little brighter.
With fingers I attempted to corral the shaggy mane into some semblance of a pony tail while continuously trying to avoid shy child from sneaking to hide behind me because her little friend continues to barrage her with pleas to see the PRINCESS SHOES. “Princess shoes! Princess shoes! Princess shoes! Can I see the shoes, can I see the shoes, can I see the shoes?” she keeps asking. Shy girl now has her entire fist in her mouth and has almost retreated into her cubby in an attempt to escape. I have a firm grip on her hair, otherwise she would be GONE. You see, my girl, every morning, has a shy attack until one of the teachers physically grabs her and boost her into the air (no small feat). Once a teacher is holding her she’s okay for me to leave or for her friends to talk to her. Until that happens she is a basket case. Today with one child being tested for a temperature and breakfast being served there were no teacher arms available to pick up my ragamuffin.
In an maneuver that would have made Houdini proud I secured the pony tail, disengaged child from legs, kissed her forehead and managed to shout, “May the force be with you!” before scurrying out of the room.