A Little Lady

Sometimes it takes longer to get out of the house than to prepare a five-course-meal. The baby must be changed and freshened up with a new diaper. The diaper bag must be prepared for any incident; hunger, thirst, dirty pants, fussy pants and germ infested hands. The dog must be tucked in her crate. Shoes put on feet.  Check to make sure you have your phone, wallet and keys. Finally, wait for the five- year- old to make her presence at the foot of the stairs? Yes! This is a common occurrence in the Darling home.

When I am ready to leave, keys in hand, back door wide open, Izzy is nowhere to be found. Where is she? She is just one color away from completing the world's most beautiful rainbow drawing.  She is changing her socks because I didn't tell her that her favorite ruffled pair were freshly laundered and sat in the clean clothes pile on our bed. She can't find her ballerina necklace, you know, "the one who dances on her tippy toes" that Pop gave her. We thought we heard just about every excuse in the book for why our eldest darling "will be down in just one more minute,"until this past Sunday.

After a long day I had to make a quick stop into Target. Sadly, Mack's need for baby Vicks and infant Tylenol heavily outweighed the need to shop the new Phillip Lim for Target collection (fabulous  - at least from what I glanced at on my way to the 10 items or less aisle).  I stood at the bottom of the steps, baby on hip, twirling my keys around my forefinger and called, "Come on Iz! What's the hold up love?" She appeared cooly at the top of the steps, fiddling with her purse zipper and said:

"Mommy, a lady never leaves the house without her purse."

Stunned into silence, I didn't even have the chance to tell her to hold onto the railing before she was down the stairs. Her feet slipped effortlessly into her flats and her little five-year-old self was out of the door and into her booster seat.

Still flabbergasted and secretly fist pumping, I grabbed the diaper bag, set the alarm and closed the door behind me. My first thought was: Heaven help us. My second thought was: A diaper bag counts as a purse ... right?

My children never cease to amaze me, especially when it comes to what comes out of their mouths. My inner fashionista beams again and I've made a mental note to talk with Iz about the elements that go into making a lady. I hope this little story gave you as big of a chuckle as the experience gave me!

With love,
Mrs. Darling