Shorts

One of the biggest struggles around these parts lately has been bed time - again.

Addie wants to be part of the party (the party usually consists of her Dad and I dozing off in front of the TV). She sneaks down and sits on the bottom step or silently plays in the dining room. Occasionally, the cat meows to tattle on her. More often than not we just sense her presence downstairs - that and she runs from her room down the hall like a herd of elephants.

After taking away toys and books and bedtime stories, we had to really get serious. Andy's genius idea? Take away her dresses. And her skirts. ALL of them. The result? Addie has to wear shorts (insert dreaded shriek here).

Shorts, according to my darling one, are the devil's creation. You can't twirl in shorts. You can't spin and be beautiful in shorts.



Shorts bite and are mean.



Inevitably the morning after the dresses are confiscated I deal with sobbing and crying and screaming and pleading. Puhleaaasssse, Mama. No shorts. I no like shorts. Mama a dress puhleaaasssse. I wanna twirl. Puhleaaasssse! Princesses don't wear shorts MAMA!





What she doesn't seem to get is that she can twirl in shorts. That she is a princess no matter what she wears.

And that, darn it, the kid looks cute in shorts.