Missy B could.not.possibly. be more opposite. She hasn't a care what she wears or how she wears it. She simply can't be bothered. A few times this school year I thought she was developing that missing genetic link proving she is of my loins, but it would vanish as soon as it appeared. Every now and then, she'll toss me a bone and say something like
"Mom, do you think I can get a pair of Uggs?"
My insides are fist pumping and hooting. And just as I gathered myself to calmly say "I suppose. Lord and Taylor sell them, so sure, maybe."
"Oh, I was totally kidding. I don't really want Uggs. I just wanted to see if you'd get all silly and squeel."
So, I don't waste much time selling labels of fashion on her. I keep my cards concealed and just say, 'here, wear this.' Until I came across a pair of brown suede boots that actually made me squeel and hop up and down. In front of her. Which usually would be her red alert to HATE said item.
The real recap of how the events played out is here. But it was pretty much me on the brink of stroking out over a pair of Michael Kors boots for an unbelievable steal.
Segue to a text from her. The kids walk to and from school. Daily. And daily, she tries to get out of it. So the texts with grand ideas of why she needs a ride are not few nor far behind.
"Am I walking or are you picking me up?"
"Walk."
"Blah. Walking will ruin my MICHAEL KORS BOOTS."
#Imnotasucker
