It was the second day of school when my fair maiden Faith scurried down the stairs and into the kitchen. The baby was parked on my feet, double fisted with sippy cups of juice and milk, whining to watch Yo Gabba Gabba. I danced around her little body, trying not to step on her while packing lunches and making breakfast.
A blur of dark golden hair and an extensive length of thigh whizzed past me. “Stop and turn around.” I demanded.
Faith looked at me like a deer in the headlights, feigning wide-eyed innocence. “What mom?”
“No way are you wearing that outfit.” I stated firmly. “Did you really think I would let you out of the house in that?”
Faith turned and looked sheepish, then flounced away in her skimpy, spaghetti strapped polka-dot sundress. As she turned to stomp up the stairs, I caught a glimpse of her pink panties.
(I could just see the mom’s at school gossiping, “Yep, that’s the pastor’s daughter, the one over there in the hootchie outfit.”)
‘But mom, its soooooo hot outside,” she whined from her room.
“You’ll be cold in that outfit” I shouted up to her.
A few minutes later, as I poured a (much needed) strong cup of coffee, in she traipsed again, now wearing her most prized and overpriced jeans with a grey cowl necked sweater. I put the cup down and looked at her in bemusement. “Faith, it was over a hundred degrees yesterday. Don’t you think you might be a little too hot?” I suggested.
She shook her head and looked in the mirror admiring her outfit. “I’ll be fine, mom.”
“Try again,” I said, shaking my head in exasperation.
She gave me the “whatever” look combined with a loud sigh and rolling of the eyes, then ran up the stairs once again.
As I heard her feet clomp down the stairs for the third time, I got a wee bit apprehensive. I could feel a headache coming on from all the drama and my son hadn’t even appeared yet with his rapper crap, (I mean the cool gear) he tries to pull off so nonchalantly.
But then Faith appeared and a wave of relief washed over me. She had on denim shorts (that actually covered her bum) and a pink diaphanous blouse that was a light cotton but still modest.
All of a sudden the Three Bears came to mind. It had been her favorite fairy tale as a munchkin.
“You look just right Goldilocks. Not too hot, not too cold, you are just right- sweetheart.”
And my fair maiden smiled and everything was the way it should be for at least five minutes (until my son came down wearing a sombrero the size of an inner-tube).
I really wish my kids wore uniforms.
