did I think I would have a little girly girl.
And never, ever in my life --
did I think that she would want a tutu.
Well, let me tell you something:
The girl has a tutu. The tutu to end all tutus if I do say. And I made it myself.
Excuse me, what?
Yes yes, me -- the one whose mother played ice hockey and semi-professional softball and struggled to sew a button onto my father's pants -- I made a tutu. That's right, me. The girl who owns a sewing machine she doesn't know how to use, who struggled with the concept of wearing a dress on her wedding day, who only went to the ballet in college because the tickets were free -- I MADE A FREAKING TUTU. A shiny, frilly, fabulous pink tutu complete with a smashing pink peony at the waist.
Oh, there will be pictures. Don't you worry. Pictures a-plenty.
I love that the bear is a girly-girl despite the fact that her Mama, most definitely, is not. She certainly has opened my eyes to the frilly side of life and I hate to admit it, but... it's not so bad. (Shhhhh. I didn't say that.)
The trick of course will be to convince her to not wear the tutu while caving, climbing, and carousing with her father. Because -- wouldn't you know -- girly-girl also happens to be a tom-boy, too.