The Dress
She wore me down.
She and her mother, that is.
I had every intention of waiting until Valentines Day to give her the dress she’d been begging for (every single day since the day she INFORMED me what I would be getting her for Valentines Day) (the apple didn’t fall too far from the tree).
But last night, at dinner (I made the reduction sauce again, for those of you wondering if I’ve yet gotten over that obsession) (I haven’t)…both she and her mother ambushed me.
…with looks like that one.
Not. Fair.
And I buckled. After dinner we exchanged gifts (read: “Daddy, you can now give Mommy and me OUR presents!”)
And the *clapping *squealing *skipping was palpable and eardrum-peircing (which made me happy).
And made Charlie Girl happy too. She allowed me a few photographs this morning to show the world the “blue dress with white polka-dots that has a butterfly on the front!”
But just a few. It’s Saturday, after all, and there are cartoons to watch.
And I’ve been recruited to fix the sink in the master bathroom. Which means we’re going from blue-and-white dress, to black-and-blue bruises. Because there’ll be tools involved and it’s mine to show this clogged pipe who’s boss.
More on this as developments unfold…
(which means if you’re the praying type, now would be a good time.)
She got you. Totally. Completely. You’re nothing in her hands. I mean, your Wife. And Charlie Girl.
But it’s nice to watch it.
(The Rebel Force is good…Well, I mean, the photographer is -sure-)
She got me alright. But I was an easy catch…if all it takes to see that smile is a little dress, there’s no way I can resist.
I bet it must be difficult to resist!
Again, the Super Powers are as Dad, well done!