Yes, I Washed That Shirt!

In advance I would like to apologize to all those poor people in my daughter’s gymnastics’ class for having to see the same shirt on her every single week. Trust me, I am even more sick of seeing that favorite shirt than you. It is clean, I swear, though waiting for it to get out of the dryer has been met with more “Is it done yet?” questions than I care for. I love Dora to bits (I even raved about her earlier and have defended the makeover she is supposedly getting) but I can see her picture in my dreams now. Though it has been embarrassing to put that shirt on her each day, I don’t have the energy to fight her on it (not that I have not tried). Plus I have even more battles in a day that I prefer to win.

I also know (hope) that this fad will be outgrown. I hang onto that thread of hope recalling earlier she had a love (obsession) with numbers (go figure). To indulge that one I just got several iron-on number transfers and put it on everything, and just went with the flow. In time (and thankfully before I ran out of numbers or patience), she cast them aside. One day  (hopefully soon) this too shall pass. So until then please bear with me and, excuse my daughter’s attire