kirks

I'm certain there are more times than this, but there is only one time that I distinctly remember getting spanked (shut the front door; yes, some parents spanked their kids... and yes, I was one of them.  I'm apparently over it and doing fine, so there is no need to contact social services).

Anyway, the one time I remember getting spanked, was when I wouldn't wear what my mom had picked out.  It sounds trivial, but I imagine I threw my body across my canopied bed, kicked and screamed, and more than likely, threw some of my clothes across the room.  I don't remember the minor details, I just remember getting a whack across the butt and a proclamation that I was to 'pick out my own clothes' from then on.

And I did.  And I loved it.  It's where my love of fashion started, I imagine.

Now I have a daughter, a two-year old little girl that refuses to wear anything other than 'kirks' (skirts).  She will stand up, scream at me and pull off a pair of jeans if I have the audacity of trying.  But then there's that memory in the back of my mind, of where I started, that just makes me roll my eyes at her and laugh.

She borrowed a friend's 'high' heeled shoes yesterday.  Little pink plastic shoes with diamond stud running across the toes.  When she first put them on, she couldn't stand up and proceeded to wail.  I teased her 'welcome to womanhood'... she only looked at me with determination in her eye and steadied herself.

She wore those heels all. day. long.  She cried anytime they fell off her feet, but was oh, so proud when they worked with her, exclaiming to me "See Momma, walking!"  She even said goodbye to the shoes as her friend took them home with her.

And I begged her friend's mom to never bring them back over...

I'm going to have enough to deal with come January, when it hits 20 below here in Minnesota and this little girl of mine is only going to wear 'kirks'.

(sigh)