Poofy Dresses for No Reason and I’m Jealous

Yesterday as I was reading PostSecret (as one does on Sunday morning, right? Show of hands?), The Princess wandered into my office half dressed in a flower girl dress asking if I would zip it up and tie the bow. Pumpkin wandered in soon after in a flower girl dress of her own, tap shoes in hand. They donned matching headbands, and in their dresses – one white, one cream – they bounded downstairs.

What for?

Well, what NOT for, really.

There was some dancing to Taylor Swift (I mean, very INTENT, very THEATRICAL dancing). The Princess would dance pirouettes and Pumpkin would follow two steps behind, doing her best to mimic her older sister’s moves.

Then, there was some story time. They nestled together on the couch as The Princess read Pumpkin picture books. Their feet dangled off the couch – The Princess in her boots given to her by her friend, Pumpkin with her older sister’s handed down tap shoes.

And then the dog joined them.

He clambered between them on the sofa and he curled up in their laps and he probably got dog snot on them (face it, it’s what he does).

All the while, my daughters decked out in their fanciest dresses didn’t bat an eye. They didn’t bat an eye at the dog snot, or the sofa smush wrinkles. They sat on the floor and played. They ran and jumped and twirled.

Carefree.

And I wish sometimes I was more like that. Watching them dance around the living room – watching their skirts swirl around them, it made me want to find a big fancy dress and kick through sand on a beach, or jump fully dressed into a pool, or eat a melty ice cream cone — all without thought of getting dirty, making a mess, or “no, you shouldn’t”.

I wonder when that part of the brain clicks over – when you stop embracing the moments and instead start thinking two steps ahead of yourself.

Sometimes I want to be back. I want to put on a shimmery dress and lie in the grass watching stars. I want bare feet and a slice of pizza in my hand. I want pirouettes in the living room.

I’d like to be a little more like them, and a little less like me.