Fashion Police

Righteous Indignation ~ I picked up my granddaughter from school on her third day of kindergarten.
“So, how was it?”
“Well,” she says, arms akimbo, “they have a lot of rules here.”
“Like what?”
“You can’t throw rocks, you can’t throw the bark, you can’t tear the leaves off the bushes, you can’t climb the trees, and you can’t jump off the merry-go-round when it’s moving. You can’t do anything here!” she snorts indignantly. 
“Could you do all that when in you were in pre-school?”
“Sure, you could do whatever you wanted in pre-school!”
“Ahh, I see. So how many kids are in your class?”
“Nine.”
“That’s a small class. How many boys and how many girls?”
“Seven boys and eight girls.”
 I note she’s inherited my math skills.
If the remainder of the school year goes this way, I imagine she’ll be spending a good part of her education in time-out. She can use the quiet time to work on her numbers.
September 2013

Fairy Princesses ~ Temple was here for a sleepover this weekend. It was 100 degrees out and even hotter inside, so I put on my purple shorts, a green V-neck Sonoma tee shirt, tucked my hair behind my ears and joined her for a game of Go Fish. She’s never seen me in shorts. Actually, it’s been quite some time since anyone has seen me in a pair of shorts, including the light of day; my legs are so white you could read a book off their reflection.
She glances up and gushes, “Oma! You look REALLY cute!”
That’s the nicest thing I could have heard, white legs and all, especially since Temple is quite the fashion plate, blessed with a sense of style from the get-go. She runs the gamut from glitter to glam and back.
A couple years ago I was dressed up for a dance; my blouse shimmered and my shiny silk skirt billowed as it caught the air when I happened down the stairs. Her eyes widened and she gasped, “Oma! You look like a fairy princess! We could be fairy princesses together!”
Now how can you not adore someone that sweet, even if she has this thing about jiggling your wiggly skin.
July 2014

Fashion Police ~ I wore a skirt on Friday.
Girl fashionista: “Is that a dress or a skirt?”
Me: “It’s a skirt,” as I lift my top to show her.
Girl fashionista in disbelief: “Your skirt is clear up to your WAIST?”
Brother to girl: “Oma can’t help it. She’s from Kentucky.”
I’ll bet those brats don’t even know where Kentucky is.
November 2014

© 2013, 2014. Catherine Sevenau.
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