There was this leotard at one of the church consignment sales I forced Charlotte to attend with me this past weekend. I showed it to Charlotte and asked her if she wanted it (in a voice that totally assumed she would be excited about it). She said no, but I got it anyways. I wanted it. I spent days in leotards as a kid. My sisters and I would make dance routines, rollerskating routines, and exercise videos in our leotards. This one was perfect. The color, the semi-shininess, the neckline and sleeves, the skirt with the perfect amount of twirl…Yes, I was excited when Charlotte discovered it in her drawer a few days later and asked to put it on. Once she put it on, it was magic. The twirls and bouncing took over, slowed only for short glimpses out the window to see the blooming pear tree in the backyard. Eventually all the blankets and pillows were shoved to the floor, and Charlotte was having so much fun that James couldn’t stand not being a part of the raucous. Tickles and wrestling ensued. I have been busy, and tired, and stressed out, and really unfair to Charlotte at times this week. I’m thankful that she is such a happy, playful, and crazy kid.
All Mountains and Molehills 