Twinkle Toes.

Here's what's been happening lately. To begin, in the morning, Marley stands in front of the mirror Todd installed in our playroom and tries on several pairs of shoes, before choosing one and then leaving for preschool. For preschool! She poses and smiles while weighing her options during this precious, hilarious, annoying ritual, and she often drags out the morning routine another minute (or five) longer by hysterically searching for her sparkly pink purse while I'm trying to get her and Rudy, presumably wearing the stretched-out, torn, probably stained pink tutu, out the door. Marley is like Carrie Flippin' Bradshaw, except her shoes come from Target or, if we feel like splurging, Stride Rite.

And then, as if that isn't enough, Marley then puts one or two of the reject pairs in her backpack, you know, in case she needs to make a change in between Circle Time and Free Play. This is exasperating. But it is who my Marley is, and I am mindful of letting her be herself moments after I say, "Dude! Let's go. It doesn't matter," all bedraggled in my same old Celtics shirt and embarrassingly old jeans. I guess, sometimes, I wish I had the confidence of Bean and Toot, who have stomped downstairs together in the morning, all costumed up, waking up Todd and me by screaming. "Fashion Ladies! Fashion Ladies!" And yes, I have read Cinderella Ate My Daughter and agree with every bit of it, and I recommend this gem of sociology and economics and common sense to anyone who has a daughter under the age of ten, and therefore, experience with The Princess Mystique.

Recently, in an attempt to embrace Beanie's flair while helping her to avoid style hyperbole, I tried to explain the concept of "less is more." This was as she was walking out the door with Todd, wearing a scarf, a necklace, a headband, at least one hairclip, and three or four other accessories that are escaping my memory right now. She screeched back at me: "That doesn't make any SENSE!" She might have been stomping her feet.

And yesterday, beginning what may prove to be a needed source of balance at this stage in Bean Beanie's life, she had her first ever tee ball practice. (She wore leggings without a skirt over them. And sneakers. She does own a pair; she just hasn't worn them in about eight or nine months. So actually, they're probably too small and she'll need a new pair. And also, because I do celebrate my Beanie, and because everything is gender-marketed now, another reality made even more obvious and clear by the aforementioned Cinderella Ate My Daughter, she has a pink glove, bat, and batting helmet.) Anyhow, I wasn't able to take her because I was coaching my sixth lacrosse game of the season. And by the way, that season has been rough so far. This year is the third year that I've been busy with spring sports, and simultaneously, a spring session of SAT prep, but I guess it hasn't gotten easier over time. Or maybe it's that, my first year, Rudy still took two naps a day. And last year, she and Marley weren't spending almost every moment of every morning and lunchtime dueling for the title of Biggest Maniac. So by the afternoon, when I'm all packed up and ready for practice or game time, what I would really like is a cocktail or a power nap. Or one followed by the other. I'm just a little weary.

But. I'm hoping to catch up on rest and exercise and organization and fun and cocktails over the next week, while Marley's out of school for April vacation. I also hope to use this casual time at home to impress upon her the carefree ways in which one might choose a single pair of shoes and then leave the house, without worrying that another pair will become necessary because of a change in activity, or weather, or fashion-based whim.