Joséphine

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After a fitful night, I was groggy and crabby when my daughter burst into my room yesterday morning. But when she asked me if I could put her hair in a bun and if she could borrow one of my dresses for the project her group of friends would be filming at school that day, I immediately sprung out of bed, fully awake and with a big foolish grin pasted across my beaming face. This kind of thing doesn’t happen very often around here. This is how my girl usually likes to dress up:

She’s no dainty flower, that’s for sure, and I love her all the more for it. Sometimes, though, I do try to cultivate the softer side of her.

Lately, I’ve been trying to break “Thugerella” as we affectionately like to call her, of her habit of thundering up and down the stairs as if she’s being chased by all the demons of hell. I swear it sounds like a herd of buffalo.

“Imagine that with each step, you’re walking on top of your mother’s head,” I coax her.

For some reason this particular admonishment has not yielded the desired effect…Whenever I hear her pounding down the stairs, cracking her dear mama’s skull with every step, I have to resort to bellowing, “HERD OF BUFFALO!” in a most unladylike fashion. At that point her footsteps usually quiet down to a mere dull, concussion-inducing thudding.

“There WILL be pictures,” I said, as I pulled her hair into a bun, beside myself with excitement. “And YES, I’ll absolutely be putting the pictures on my blog.”

Poor girl. All she could do was sigh heavily and wince as I stuck her with a million bobby pins. I personally think the pain was worth it…

I present to you: Empress Joséphine de Beauharnais!

“Look regal,” I instructed.

It’s impossible to thunder up and down the stairs in an evening gown…

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