The Tale of a Tutu

I'll never forget the day we bought "the tutu."

While I think the technical name for what we own is a petticoat, poor Rob could never grasp that word (since he had never heard it before in his life - gasp! - poor thing, so deprived of all things Jane Austen & all those other lovely romantic authors.) In any case, this pink, fluffy darling article of clothing became known as simply "the tutu."

ML could have cared less what we called it though. When she saw it on the rack at a local Christmas show (you know the indoor kind with all the booths and vendors?) she DEMANDED to try it on, and once she had it on, she marched away from the booth, already determined that she was the rightful owner of this fluffy pink skirt. And there was nothing anyone could do about it. Period.

It cost of pretty penny, but even Rob forked over the money readily because it was the CUTEST THING EVER. No joke.

We could hardly walk down the aisle without every person stopping to poke the person next to them and say, "Look at that girl in the pink tutu." And if you think ML didn't know she was the center of attention, you'd be wrong, dead wrong. Because if there is one thing ML enjoys, it's the spotlight.

And so it began........ We wore it to Disney to meet the princesses.

(Did I mention it travels well smooshed into a 2 gallon zip lock?)

We wear it around the house for fun.

And yes, we even wear it to bed.

That's right, I went to check on her last night and found her in bed, dead asleep, wearing the tutu.

Because you just never know when Prince Charming might come calling in the middle of the night.

Sweet Dreams.