Last weekend was picture day for Juliana's dance class. In a perfect world - not a big deal, really. Throw on the costume, whip her hair into a bun. A little blush and some lipstuff. Drive her, drop her, watch her smile and then bring her home.
But things are never perfect.
The night before was a group sleepover at her friends house - a birthday party for their dolls. There were streamers and balloons, party food, and spa treatments. I made arrangements to pick her up in the morning with enough time to do the aforementioned dance photo preparations.
Imagine my surprise when I picked her up the next morning and she had the remnants of a marker-made curly mustache and beard on her face.
It was one of those moments that my inner-parent wanted to blow. My inner-parent wanted to know what in the world she was thinking. But my inner-parent was over taken by appropriate-parent. It had to be considering I was surrounded by other children with marker faces and other parents picking up their girls. I took a deep breath and said a few prayers that it was washable.
We drove home in a very quiet car and at home we sudsed up a facecloth and scrubbed. Fortunately (for all of us) it came off.
And then we threw on the costume, whipped her hair into a bun, threw on a little blush and some lipstuff.
Picture perfect.
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