When Kendrie got up this morning and got herself dressed for school, I noticed what she was wearing: a black undershirt, light blue t-shirt, and royal blue sweat pants with a red stripe. I noticed because I knew they were having Valentines parties at school this afternoon, and that I would be there with my camera ... but of course, hoping she would wear a pink and red striped Hanna Andersson dress with matching tights was out of the question. She was ensconsed comfortably somewhere between "what not to wear, elementary school version" and "street urchin" .... but she was dressed, which was most important, so I decided not to fight it.
Tonight, we went out to dinner with our family for Brayden's birthday. (More on the fact my baby turned twelve years old today later .... for now, I'm too busy rafting down the river of denial to talk about it.) Kendrie asked me to take her to the bathroom at the restaurant, and when we got inside and I took a good look at her, I realized she had changed clothes.
One of my pet peeves is my kids changing clothes for no reason. Because Heaven forbid they hang anything back up and wear it again ... oh, no. Straight into the dirty laundry it goes. My mantra is: "Do you think I do laundry for the fun of it???" and my kids have had it burned into their little brains at this point in their lives, but still, with no real success.
I noticed Kendrie's change of clothes, and was about to launch into my lecture for the million and ONE time ......
"Kendrie, why did you change clothes before dinner? What was wrong with the outfit you had on? Do you think I do laundry for the fun of it?"
And she looked at me, like I was clearly clueless (which if I am, it's only because these kids have sucked every brain cell out of my head) and replied ....
"Mom. The other outfit didn't match."
Her new outfit??? A white undershirt, gray and purple t-shirt, and navy blue sweats.
So, yeah. I guess when she puts it *that* way ...... clears everything up, doesn't it?