Dressing a Flower Girl
I love going over to my sister’s place. It makes me appreciate how much I’ve learned about parenthood to see someone in a permanent frazzle like I used to be. Okay, so it’s just nice to see someone else suffer for a change.
That’s why I was surprised to have her drop in here early one morning with her youngest in tow. Not that she isn’t welcome or doesn’t visit. But with two girls, one in school, she just doesn’t do mornings. Claims she doesn’t have the time. Wuss.
I poured her a coffee and went back to my laptop. She was chugging it down like this was the first oasis in the desert. “Dresses,” she croaked. I looked at her and waited for the caffeine to kick in. “Cousin Angela’s wedding. Flower girl dress. Out of luck.”
It so happened I was on a celebrity gossip site at the time, and hadn’t seen my five-year old niece come up to my elbow. “Tacky,” she pronounced. I think she got the speech pattern from her mother, but I have to admit she had good taste and some stars didn’t.
“So what do you need?” I asked the air between mother and child.
“Something good that will do for more than one occasion.”
“Pretty.”
I pointed to the coffee pot, while the flower girl-to-be wandered off. I should solve all my problems so easily. “Here,” I swung the laptop around to face her. “Us Angels, satin and tulle, she’ll look like a princess.”
“Mmmmm.” First look. “Mmmmmmm!” Second look. “This is nice. But a little cool for December?”
“Satin cape there, too. Or a white shawl, you decide. My fashion consultant’s bill is in the mail.”
“What about shoes?” she asked, not quite trusting her good luck or my good taste.
“I already have shoes!” the flower girl chirped. And there she was in the doorway, wearing my red stilettos with the rhinestone bow and ankle strap.
My sister’s eyebrows rose at least an inch. “And where did our Auntie wear those?” she smiled sweetly. I grabbed my cold coffee and started chugging myself, wondering what the dangers were of telling her they belonged to my husband.
