Confession

Dear Mom,

Do you remember that Sunday when we were trying to leave the house to go to church?  And I couldn't find my dress shoes?  And we were late because we were all looking for them?

I have a confession to make.

I hid them underneath the table.  Do you remember that fancy round table we were going to re-varnish?  It had a really long table cloth over it.  It was green with a lacy white over cloth.  It hung all the way to the floor.  It was the perfect place to conceal something.  I don't remember if I ever used it for anything else intentionally, except for that one day. 

So why did I hide my perfectly good (probably adorable) Sunday shoes underneath a dusty table?  I was hoping you'd notice the super adorable strappy heels you didn't really wear anymore.  I'd conveniently laid those out somewhere conspicuous after Rachel or I were done playing with them. I think I must have been a tween or early teens at that point.  And man, but did I want to be wearing some more grown up shoes. 

Incidentally, if you don't remember - you didn't take the bait.  I gave up and then "found" my shoes underneath the table. 

Though I didn't think it was awesome at the time, I appreciate it now.  Thank you for not letting me grow up too fast.  I'll have to put the brakes on for my own girls all too soon.

I love you,
Cakle-berry.


PS. Yes, I do know that "and" is not supposed to start a sentence.  I like it anyway.