"Or, you could call them clam-diggers, Natie. They're so cute!" added my Grandma Ginger.
"Ok," I said.
Then, I wore them to school -- my homemade school clothes that my Mom was so proud of. I'm sure I did look cute. But I hated them. I cannot stress that enough. I really did hate and loath that outfit from the 4th grade - blue knickerbockers and a red plaid-ish shirt.
To make matters worse, we had the fitness test on the day I wore that outfit. As I ran, my bra strap was showing, and I was so worried about it, I swung my arm around really funny as I ran the 50 yard dash, so that my strap wouldn't show. I was one of the 2 girls who wore a bra in the 4th grade. I actually started wearing it in the 3rd grade. No one could know I had a bra. I had a hard time with that aspect of growing. Mr. Burnside and Ms. Pierce were laughing and asked me what I was doing. I was mortified. And, my time sucked. I was not the fastest girl that year. It took me a long time to get over that. I was so used to being the fastest girl in the grade, it was a tough pill to swallow.
Now, I hear myself telling my kids, "They're classic! They never go out of style. You look cute. WEAR IT!!"
Perhaps I'm scaring them.
The little garage helper.
Helping with the kitchen table project. Oh, the kitchen table project. Someday, I'll share with you the Allegory of the Kitchen Table. How it pecked apart at our marriage. . . . but it's still too fresh.
I love this screen shot of Jake and Kate.
If I ever forget the sound of Abby when she cries and screams, I need my head checked. Who am I kidding - I'll never forget. She is aging me. Oh, so slowly, she is aging me.
I have a feeling that Abby won't have a hard time accepting the need for a bra. Just yesterday, she said, "Mom, when I grow up, I'm going to have boob crack just like you." She said it so proudly.