Just Don’t Ask Me to French Braid
Even though I have two little girls who love their bling, I don’t really possess the girly girl gene. I don’t insist that they wear matching smocked dresses on the weekends and big floppy hair bows. I don’t care if they wear Gymboree leggings snagged at a consignment sale and a Tarjay t-shirt. Pony tails and pig tails are considered fancy up dos at our house. Miss A wears a lot of hand me downs and Miss C was spotted at the neighborhood pizza parlor recently wearing a Cinderella costume. Honestly, as long as their clothes are clean and dog hair free (which is a difficult thing to attain at our house), I consider it a banner day. Plus Miss C has to stick with the standard school attire five days a week, so why not let the girl channel her inner Cyndi Lauper on the weekends?
Despite my inability to fix their hair properly or make sure they look like little miss Southern belles, I think Miss C and Miss A have a healthy balance of tom boyishness and love for all things princess. They’re not opposed to playing in the mud, but they love to play dress up. They love to wrestle and have pillow fights and play with terrorize our dogs, but they also love to twirl in their nightgowns and sing with dreamy cadence, “I love being a princess, I love being a princess!” (Thanks to The Backyardigans.) Miss C is especially diligent about wearing things she deems pretty, and often our opinions don’t mesh. I’m sure this is just practice for the teen years.
I do like to dress the girls in matching outfits during the holidays, though, and with our recent cool weather I am daydreaming about snowy winter days (since we get so much snow in Nashville) and the girls wearing matching PJs and sipping on hot chocolate while curled up in front of a roaring fire.
But I draw the line at something like this…
Besides, Bailey and Jack would look hideous in plaid.
