“She fell in love with this one dress that I just couldn’t let her get.”
“Oh, ok. I trust your judgment mom. No worries, she’ll be just fine.”
“So we got her the uniform.”
No. Our public school does not in fact require uniforms. And yet our daughter will be known forever more for one particular dress.
This dress was made for her. It’s long, but not too long. It has a little ruffle. It’s fitted, but not too fitted. It’s got short sleeves. It’s dressy but not too dressy. It looks like it has a little jacket even though it’s just one piece. It’s even got some glitter or sequins depending on the model.
Because this silhouette comes in an array of color combos my dear friends. You can get a little black fake jacket or a little white fake jacket or a little insert your desired color here fake jacket. You can get all one colored little tiers or if you’re feeling daring you can alternate those suckas. It’s a designing marvel Coco Chanel herself would love. (I blatantly made that up. This yoga pants wearing momma has not a clue.)
Maddie has been wearing this dress in one design or another for at least three years. We actually have the same exact dress spanning multiple sizes.
And grandma knows full well how much Maddie loves this dress. So when she was in love with that one dress, she was easily swayed when purple sparkly nirvana was spotted on the next rack.
The reason the first dress was vetoed was not due to any indiscretion but the enormous amount of glitter that would bring to the surface the barely buried great Cinderella dress glitter debacle of 2013.
So the glitterati was abandoned and another uniform made it in. It’s got a little purple fake jacket and one shade purple tiers. This one has glitter instead of sequins. Apparently not as much glitter as the first choice.
So I went to the doctor yesterday and after he takes off the brace that runs from my thigh to my ankle 24 hours a day and unravels the ace bandage beneath he asks, “You doing some arts and crafts on your time off?”
I look down and there’s a spattering of purple glitter on my thigh.
Apparently, mom. Apparently.