Lady in Lavender

Piper fell in love yesterday. The object of her affection was a “fairy dress” at Kohl’s. We were shopping for summer sandals when Piper came around the corner and saw it. “OMG!” she shouted. “There it is! The dress I’ve always dreamed about!” She ran to it and embraced its lavender taffeta goodness on the plastic hanger.  Then she danced with it. She and her lavender love twirled about knocking into other racks of inferior clothing. The relationship was already to second base by the time I reached her. “Can I try it on? Please!” Piper begged.  Her Sissy had an arm full of shorts and t-shirts by then so I figured the dress would keep Piper occupied.  I assessed the sparkles and the flowing cut aways. She wasn’t serious, was she?

“You can try it on, Piper, but that’s it.  We’ll play dress up,” I said.

Piper ran to the dressing room, shedding her beloved pink tutu as she went.

She’s fallen in love with items of clothing before. Remember Sissy’s blog about the Rainbow of Fruit Flavors? Then there was her love of the one ballet shoe in Homemade Magic. A Piper is always fashionable.

Piper spent the next thirty minutes admiring herself in the dressing room mirror.  The dress transformed her. “I look like a grownup,” Piper claimed. “Duh.” Apparently, all grownups do is say “duh” in a sarcastic voice. Piper could use a few better role models.

You probably know how the dress saga ended.  I really did go in with the best intentions to indulge her fantasy but to be practical in the end.  But could you say no to this?

The lady in lavender found her new home.

What We Talk About When We Talk About Love

As you may have heard, unless you’re boycotting or hiding under a rock, last week was Valentine’s Day, which is really just another opportunity for Piper and Augie to engage in their ongoing soulmate love fest.  I vote yes for any occasion that let’s me just say I love you. I don’t need flowers although I won’t complain about them either. I definitely don’t want to brave a restaurant and/or wrestle someone for a babysitter on a Tuesday evening when much of the rest of the country is trying to do the same. But I’ll happily eavesdrop on your personal valentine messages and appreciate the truth about love.

The truth about a long distance friendship between four-year-olds is that it’s hard and it’s work.  You miss each other and you don’t know when you’ll be together again.  Your parents are entirely in charge of scheduling and they seem to be busy doing something called “work.”  You don’t have a credit card yet so you can’t just buy a plane ticket.  You don’t drive, even though you really, really want to, so you can’t just hop in a car. You don’t own a boombox so you can’t hold it above your head and blare “In Your Eyes” like John Cusack in “Say Anything”:

Oh, swoon.  That gets me every time.

As a four-year-old in love, you have to rely on Skype, video messages, and the postal service to keep the flame alive. So, you work hard to express yourself to your valentine with the only tools you have: markers, glitter, heart stickers, and foam beads. Here is what Augie sent Piper this week:

Swoon again.  That Augie is sweeter than candy.  That’s a lot of glitter hearts and you and I know clearly what that means.  Nothing says I love you like a purple pipe clean molded into a heart. And any man who understands the importance of dotting your “i” as a statement is a good man in my book.  Piper went a bit more of the clichéd route and relied on jewelry to express her feelings:

As a girl invested in anything rainbow, making and then giving away an awesome foam rainbow necklace is the ultimate sacrifice. And look at the layering of hearts.  Clearly, a metaphor. Let’s look inside:

Writing her name is not Piper’s favorite thing to do, but for Augie, she will.  Happily. Because when you love someone, you work at it.  You tell them. And you hold on tight.

Life Illustrated Part 1

One way to get inside Piper’s head is to observe her “art.” I do intend the air quotes, by the way.  This is apparently what my partner and I do on romantic getaways:

First, I don’t wear snuggies in public.  Geez.  And the rainbow dress would never fit Piper’s dad.  I’m certainly not taking somebody’s baby on my date.  And why is there a decapitated moose head next to the poop?  I probably shouldn’t ask. In fact, my questions just get in the way.  To Piper, it just is. Her imagination is a frightening and wonderful place. As it should be.