Perfection

Yesterday, when we were preparing to walk to the square to enjoy the gorgeous weather and some breakfast, Kate announced that she "wanted to get fancy". As long as the kids don't want to wear something that could cause them to develop frost bite or, conversely, a nasty sunburn, we let them select their own attire. So I said "fine, just get fancy in a hurry, mama's hungry." She did, but she was wearing her ballet slippers. I pointed out that if she wore those out she would not be permitted to get out of the stroller to walk or play at any point. "But I waaaaaant to wear these!" she whined "These are the perfect shoes for me!" she said, feeling that since she was in her Fancy Nancy attire she should talk like Fancy Nancy. "Well," I considered "if you want to wear those we'll need to bring alternate shoes with us, should there be an opportunity for frolicking." I felt this was a fine compromise (the bottoms are already falling off her ballet slippers) but Kate's freakin' crazy. She wept. "Nooooooo! I don't want to bring other shoes! No!" I shoved other shoes in Sarah's diaper bag while saying "we're bringing them. You'll thank me later". She turned in a huff, walking down the hall to avoid me. She was a good distance away but I could still hear her mutter "these are not the perfect parents..."