•10:18 AM
Every night at approximately seven thirty, I tell myself the same thing. I make a plan ... a plan to get rid of the costumes. Because every night at approximately seven thirty, I enter Addison's room to find princess costumes spread from end to the other. Tonight, she stands in the middle of them in her pink Sleeping Beauty costume pyjamas.
"Addison, you are not wearing that for sleepy time," I try to explain. And the tears start to flow.
"But ... but ... I want to be pwetty."
It is hard to argue with a three-year-old who wants to be pwetty. And so the fighting begins. And sometimes I win, but other times I just give up. Because it seems easier. So, she gets to sleep in her Sleeping Beauty costume.
But that is when I start to make the plan.
The plan is that once she is asleep, I will sneak into her room and remove the whole box of costumes. Confiscating them to the basement ... perhaps, never to be seen again. And I smile at thought and feel victorious ... even if she is sleeping in the (insert your favourite princess here) costume for tonight, it will be the last time I have to deal with it.
A couple of hours later, I will tip-toe into her room, eager to enact the plan. But I check on her first. This is my mistake. Because lying there, in her bed, is just about the sweetest little angel I have ever seen. So cute, and peaceful.
In many respects, Addison rescued me. She came to me at a time in my life that was difficult, to say the least. She brought me such joy, and she was just what I needed. And ... she was so easy as an infant. She went with the flow, never a fussy baby ... we used to call her "Smilin' Addie."
As she lay there, in her bed, wearing the ridiculous princess costume, I can no longer see the defiant strong-willed little girl who, only two hours earlier, had been screaming and crying, refusing to abide by my wisdom. I can only see Smilin' Addie. The one who made me smile, when I had no other reason to. And, I ask myself ...
"Is she really hurting anyone by wearing the costumes?"
I cannot take away the one thing that brings this sweet little girl such happiness. We should all wear costumes and dress up pwetty, I think to myself. If I took them away, I would be stifling her individualism and her creative flare. No, the costumes must stay. What could I have been thinking earlier?
I cover her up and smile, watching my little angel sleep. What would I ever do without this little miracle in my life? I tip-toe back out of her room, feeling content and happy. And, lucky.
The next morning, I am always greeted by a smiling little princess ... a different princess than the one I tucked into bed. But, a princess none the less. I know there will be many different princesses parading around the house today. Probably, a different one for each of breakfast, lunch and supper.
But, that's okay. I'm not going to worry about it. I know how deal with a problem like this.
Because I have the plan.
"Addison, you are not wearing that for sleepy time," I try to explain. And the tears start to flow.
"But ... but ... I want to be pwetty."
It is hard to argue with a three-year-old who wants to be pwetty. And so the fighting begins. And sometimes I win, but other times I just give up. Because it seems easier. So, she gets to sleep in her Sleeping Beauty costume.
But that is when I start to make the plan.
The plan is that once she is asleep, I will sneak into her room and remove the whole box of costumes. Confiscating them to the basement ... perhaps, never to be seen again. And I smile at thought and feel victorious ... even if she is sleeping in the (insert your favourite princess here) costume for tonight, it will be the last time I have to deal with it.
A couple of hours later, I will tip-toe into her room, eager to enact the plan. But I check on her first. This is my mistake. Because lying there, in her bed, is just about the sweetest little angel I have ever seen. So cute, and peaceful.
In many respects, Addison rescued me. She came to me at a time in my life that was difficult, to say the least. She brought me such joy, and she was just what I needed. And ... she was so easy as an infant. She went with the flow, never a fussy baby ... we used to call her "Smilin' Addie."
As she lay there, in her bed, wearing the ridiculous princess costume, I can no longer see the defiant strong-willed little girl who, only two hours earlier, had been screaming and crying, refusing to abide by my wisdom. I can only see Smilin' Addie. The one who made me smile, when I had no other reason to. And, I ask myself ...
"Is she really hurting anyone by wearing the costumes?"
I cannot take away the one thing that brings this sweet little girl such happiness. We should all wear costumes and dress up pwetty, I think to myself. If I took them away, I would be stifling her individualism and her creative flare. No, the costumes must stay. What could I have been thinking earlier?
I cover her up and smile, watching my little angel sleep. What would I ever do without this little miracle in my life? I tip-toe back out of her room, feeling content and happy. And, lucky.The next morning, I am always greeted by a smiling little princess ... a different princess than the one I tucked into bed. But, a princess none the less. I know there will be many different princesses parading around the house today. Probably, a different one for each of breakfast, lunch and supper.
But, that's okay. I'm not going to worry about it. I know how deal with a problem like this.
Because I have the plan.
1 comments:
I miss my pwetty princess very much and I love that picture. Yes, Mommie, you are VERY lucky.