Jada's evening seemed to be going great: she had a good dinner, got to watch some Charlie Brown, and even had a poopy in the potty. Bedtime stories went well, she brushed her teeth good, and seemed fine when I kissed her goodnight and left her bedroom.
But within five minutes, the waterworks began. I went down once, and then a second time, to see what was the matter. The second time, between tears and gasps, she pointed to her closet and said, "I want to wear a pretty dress tomorrow."
I looked over at her bureau, where tomorrow's clothes were waiting for her: a pink top and black shorts. I guess Jada wasn't feeling that ensemble. I stifled an urge to chuckle, and with as much seriousness as I could muster, opened her closet door and asked, "How about the one with sunflowers?"
She nodded her approval. I asked her to hang the dress on the inside of her door, and then to close the door behind me. I guess that's all it took to calm herself down to sleep, was the assurance that she'd look good in the morning. Our little fashionista . . .
But within five minutes, the waterworks began. I went down once, and then a second time, to see what was the matter. The second time, between tears and gasps, she pointed to her closet and said, "I want to wear a pretty dress tomorrow."
I looked over at her bureau, where tomorrow's clothes were waiting for her: a pink top and black shorts. I guess Jada wasn't feeling that ensemble. I stifled an urge to chuckle, and with as much seriousness as I could muster, opened her closet door and asked, "How about the one with sunflowers?"
She nodded her approval. I asked her to hang the dress on the inside of her door, and then to close the door behind me. I guess that's all it took to calm herself down to sleep, was the assurance that she'd look good in the morning. Our little fashionista . . .
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