Friday was one of those days. You know, one of THOSE DAYS. Yep. Georgia was in a fine mood when she woke up. She was in a fine mood during breakfast, and when she skipped off up the stairs to go get dressed. Then, things went downhill. Fast.
I called and called up the stairs for her to hurry and come down. She had been gone awhile. She finally drags herself down the stairs. She descends like there is a death squad waiting at the bottom of the stairs, instead of her Mommy. It takes her about 5 minutes to get all the way to the bottom. And, I didn't tap my foot with impatience, not once. Okay, well, maybe I did and I was urging her along and asking her why she looked like she was headed to her doom. She bursts into tears and plops herself down on the bottom step, and says, "I am not going to school." Amid the tears, and wails, and hiccups. I finally translate that she doesn't want to go to school because she doesn't like the shirt she is wearing. The shirt is her school t-shirt, and everyone is encouraged to wear them on Fridays as it is spirit day. I choose her clothes for her for the week, and put them on a hanging shelf unit in her closet, and she chooses what she wants to wear on each particular day from the choics there. As it was Friday, there was only one choice left, and she didn't like it. She says to me that the shirt is ugly and she doesn't want to wear it and she doesn't want to go to school. WAAAAAAH! So, I tell her that she doesn't have enough time to go change, and that she needs to wear it, but she doesn't have to wear it next Friday if she doesn't want to. More tears. The doorbell rings and it is her neighborhood friends who have arrived to walk with her to school. They are both wearing THE SHIRT! I point this out to Georgia, who couldn't care less. I end up bribing her to go to school by giving her a little mermaid sticker to wear on the shirt, and by allowing her to take her favorite stuffed animal (froggy) to school. She sniffles and looks forlorn all the way to school, according to the Mom who walked the girls to school. A few more tears, but the Mom said she was doing much better when she got to the playground.
Mid-morning, the teacher calls me. Apparently, Georgia spent a little time that morning in the fetal position on the reading rug, with froggy, crying. The teacher couldn't seem to get a coherent answer from her about what was wrong, just something about a shirt. That didn't make sense to her (ya think?), so she called me. Bear in mind that Daddy is in Iraq. So, the teacher is quite worried - worried that something has happened to Daddy and that is why Georgia is so upset and crying. I reassure the teacher that Daddy is fine, and that Georgia's trauma is more like a fashion emergency. We agreed that Georgia is probably upset about Daddy being gone and missing him, but doesn't quite know how to verbalize that, so it manifested itself in an anti-shirt campaign. However, the teacher does tell me, "Georgia's clothes are all so lovely, the shirt is kind of ugly in comparison!" Oh for pete's sake, help me out here, will ya??!! At that point, she was doing better and having snack and playing on the playground, so the teacher and I agreed that she should stay at school.
However, I started feeling pretty guilty - bad mommy syndrome - that I had made her go to school and wear THE SHIRT. So, I picked her up a little early and took her to the build-a-bear-workshop. I know, pretty hard-core case of the guilties. She asked me why I picked her up early and why I decided to take her to the build-a-bear-workshop. I told her it was because I heard she had a bad day.
And, she says, "I didn't have a bad day."
Oh. Okay then.