Dear Mr. Mc-BooBoos,
When you're a sweaty, brooding, monosyllabic teenage boy, I'll look back and remember how lovely you looked coming around the corner wearing your sister's old purple ballet slipper footed jammies, armed with a Barbie in each hand - brunette on the left, blonde on the right.
Sure, you had nothing to do with the choice of evening wear, seeing as how at this point you don't have the fine motor skills necessary to dress yourself. But double fisting the dollies was all you, and next time there will be photographic evidence.
I suppose that cross-dressing in the interest of getting a bit more use out of perfectly good pajamas will no longer be a viable option once society has imposed upon you its preconceived notions about the appropriateness of ballerina-themed clothing for children of the male gender, but who am I to interfere with your love of miniature silken haired misrepresentations of female beauty with remarkably unlikely bust to waist to hip ratios?
Love,
Mama
p.s. I promise never to make you wear hand-me-down days of the week Disney princess panties.
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1 comment:
Alice,
That is so hilarious!
Now that Elizabeth has lost some weight, can you please suggest to her that she stop wearing my big T-shirts and wear some of her's when she changes into her pajamas for the night?
I promise I won't say "nice ass", I'll just think it. . . .
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