Ah, innocence.
Yeah. *sigh* How long 'til it's dashed?
As I was typing, she came over and said, "Oh, and I definitely *definitely* know for sure that Michael is in love me. Like, definitely."
"How do you know?"
"At rug time, he just kept staring at me, and it was written all over his face. I do NOT love Michael, though."
I actually think she's right about Michael in the kindergarten sense of "love", because he's like a puppy dog around her. He's completely sweet and adorable, so I don't confirm her suspicions about him often, because I don't want her to lord it over him. I've got to find a balance between building up enough earlier confidence--such that she can survive middle school with some of it still in tact, while not creating a Cordelia.
Ganked from Manolo's Shoe Blog:
Christmas again, already? What is that, Betsy? It's like the Picasso version of the bridesmaid butt bow.
If Kara had stolen it we would have found it with small toys in it under her bed or something and she would have said things like, "Aidan DID IT!" and "I don't KNOW how it got there!" Instead, we found it underneath the basement stairs, indicating a toy-under-stair-thrower of some skill. That's Aidan. Of course, she had stolen it before, which is why we assumed she did it the second time.
Deena, I love your detective skills.
It's like the Picasso version of the bridesmaid butt bow.
That's exactly it! It's horrifying, whatever it is.
"At rug time, he just kept staring at me, and it was written all over his face."
She said that?! Perceptive little thing, isn't she? (With an admirable vocabulary.) Oh, the boys have some trouble coming their way, I think.
Ok, I had morning commentary, but everything went out of my head at the sight of the runway model.
Do they beam this stuff down from Mars, or what? I feel like posting that link up where my high-fashion daughter can see it, so that I listen to her point and snicker and say rude things.
That's not a dress, it's walking Japanese rope bondage.
The fine line between haut couture and fashion victimhood has finally been completely obliterated.
SF-istas: you can take a taxidermy class at Paxton Gate. My favorite part of the description? "The fee is $60 and the mouse and kit are yours when you’re done."
Also, dig the punk-rock mouse!
Heaven help me. Julia not only likes the bow dress, she is mad she doesn't have one. She is six. Fashion designers, please take note.
She said that?! Perceptive little thing, isn't she? (With an admirable vocabulary.) Oh, the boys have some trouble coming their way, I think.
Her father is already having heart failure, at the thought. Her vocab is something else. I don't know how little she was when she was using
hypothetically
correctly. A lot of times, I think she was born knowing everything. Both of my boys, however, are the youngest souls on record.
sheesh, why am I completely unable to do work?
Teppy, do you think they'd mind if we brought in the runway model in the haute couture Japanese rope bondage, and taxidermied her instead? I like to stuff dead things on a larger scale.
