Again, I didn't have my camera handy for a photo op....
When I was little, threats of coal in my stocking or switches under the tree simply
paled in comparison to the mere
suggestion that one of the brightly wrapped packages addressed to me and poking out from underneath the tree contained slips.
Slips of
what?
Slips of.....oh, I don't know....filmy, diaphanous, silky material that felt slimy against my legs and were hot and simply horrible to have to wear on Sundays or whenever I had to dress up. I was
so glad when I graduated to denim skirts and was able to convince my mom that heavy weight knits didn't require those awful things. I didn't even think that little girls
wore slips anymore until one was given to the three year old in a sack of hand-me-downs last week. But apparently these filmy (ick! slimy!) things are still available for little ladies.
Well, fast forward to this Sunday. Believe it or not, sometimes Sunday mornings just aren't smooth going for us - its the only day that all four of us have to be out the door at the same time before noon, and well, for some reason that is often a struggle! I thought I had conquered this week's morning of chaos by waking up an hour early and getting clothes out before the girls were up. I pulled out a "new" dress for Abbo to wear and ironed it. Its a sweet red checkered dress she's never worn before that buttons all the way down the front. Alas, with temperatures in the teens when we left for church, she needed something under it.
The slip!
I dug it out from where it was hanging in her closet. I had a momentary flashback and knew that I'd never be able to pull something like this on our six year old whose sense of "style" (as in, thrift store/WalMart chic) more approximates my own, but figured I might be able to get away with it with the little one. I expected I might be able to put something over on her if I acted quickly, but I didn't count on the opposite reacation: Her eyes lit up when she saw it and she immediately rubbed the skirt to her cheek (ewwww!), closed her eyes and said, "mmmmmm...."
So I popped the slip over her head and went to her dresser to grab a pair of tights. I turned around and there was the three year old modeling a new look: a gossamer slip and purple flip flops.
Me: "C'mon, Abbo, you have to take off the sandals to put your tights on."
Her: No.
Me: "C'mon, its too cold for flip flops. Maybe in the summer."
Her: No.
Daddy, coming in the room: "I don't care if she wears flip-flops."
Her: Daddyo said I can wear thems.
Me: (trying not to lose it, after all, today was going to be a chaos-free Sunday) Maybe if there weren't still 6 inches of snow on the ground and maybe if the temperatures were above freezing, but she HAS TO WEAR TIGHTS. AND SHOES.
Daddy: You're right. Abbo, put on the tights.
Her: Well, I'm wearing this dress then.
Me: Yes, but you're putting this pretty RED dress over that dress.
Her: No. This dress is soft, see? (Rubs hands over slip and skirt). I wanna wear DIS dress.
Me: (Gagging) We wear our dresses OVER our slips, now come here......
etc., etc.
Eventually, the dress went on and was buttoned up and there were no drafts between the button holes. I have to admit, a slip (ptoey!) was perfectly appropriate in this situation.
But now, I'm afraid I might never get the slip off of her. She insisted on wearing it to bed over her jammos. Just before I tucked her in, picked her up and put my hand on a damp spot on the front of her.
Me: "Why are you wet? Is this pee-pees?"
Her: "No, I like to chew on it."
Me: (Shudder, gag....)
