Sunday Silly

We were sitting at the dinner table. Miraculously, everyone liked what I had prepared and we were happily eating our barbequed chicken. As is our dinner time ritual, we began going around the table talking about the high and low of our day. When The Hubs got to Z2, he commented on her outfit. She was looking particularly cute that evening, in all of her 8 year old girlishness. As of late, her dressing choices have been a bit of a point of contention.  We've hit that point in dressing where the child wears the same three shirts every single week and will ask you to wash them over and over (to which I refuse to comply, as she has more than enough clothing for two-three weeks). Of course, as she habitually wears the same clothing, it becomes worn and shapeless, much to The Hubs chagrin. For me, as long as its clean and she's covered and the colors are within the same vein, it's a battle I'd rather not pursue. I mean, why bring it on any earlier? She'll figure it out soon enough.


"Oh, mom," she said,"Could you please wash my XYZ shirt for my skit tomorrow?" Before I could reply, The Hubs cut in. "No. No she will not. I'm over that shirt, Z2. It was cute when you you were in 1st grade, but not so much in 3rd grade."


She looked at me and rolled her eyes. With complete calm and matter-of-factness, she turned to The Hubs and said," I can't even pretend to think that you would understand the complications of a third grade girl's closet."


I supressed my laughter (well, I tried, anyway). A bit taken aback, he asked her," And why is that, my dear?"


"Honestly, Dad. You wear polos. you work on computers all day. How could you possibly know?" She cut her eyes back at me with a Cheshire grin. 


Uhm, how old is she?


Yours, wondering what it's going to be like when she learns how to drive,


Melissa