Katie was not a happy camper. She has a favorite nightgown that I've come to realize she loves only because it is a) long and b) "twirly". Now, until I had a 3 year old daughter, I didn't even realize that twirly was a word but now... it makes perfect sense.
Well, the other night I had to tell her that the nightgown was in the wash. She pretended not to hear me and asked for it again. I told her again, with my infinite patience, that the nightgown was in the wash. The third time, patience running a little lower, I told her that the nightgown was still in the wash because, remember on Friday when you wore it all morning and you ate and spilled pizza on it and it got dirty? Well, we need to wash it so it's in the wash. She got that look on her face that tells me that the next however many minutes are not going to be pleasant. She asked for it again and in a very firm voice (or as firm a voice as a 3 year old can come up with when trying to sound like mommy at her firmest) said that she wanted her nightgown. Well at this point, there's not going to be any way to reason with her. I know she knows that it's in the wash and I know she knows that I know that she understands it's IN THE WASH but she's ignoring the reality in favor of wearing her favorite long twirly nightgown. Arg.
Finally we compromised (and that night, compromise = ice cream cone) on her blue short and tank top jammies and she was a happy camper.
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