Almost-five is precocious. Almost-five is independent. And very sure of her choices.
Rosey shot up another clothing size in the last month, so her Fall wardrobe needed new stuff. And as she's almost-five and choosing her own way among the styles and colours of things, she's experimenting. With colours. And styles. And the absence of and additions to frilly-ness.
Last night she decided she wanted to wear her new black top to school today. (Black? Black. With an embroidered design...a heart with a crown on it? Something. In black thread.) I laid out her denim skirt, some white tights and a white hair bow.
So I wasn't prepared for R to hit the breakfast table this morning in her new black top, her black jeans, gray socks and tennies, looking older than she should and without a hair bow in sight.
'No bow, Mama. I'd like ponytails today. Without ribbon.'
Oh, crap, so soon? I'm not done buying the cute stuff yet! I kept my tone light. 'R, are you sure? You look kind of....'
'...dark. I mean....wouldn't you rather wear some colours?'
She considered, her head tipping with the weight of her thoughts. 'Sure.'then left the house dressed in black, her fuchsia backpack and her pink cap breaking it up a bit.
I'm really hoping the school psychologist wasn't in today.
Between Rosey doing her Daria impression and Cass's black eye*, we look like a family on the edge.
*What IS it with Cass and black eyes in October? This time he was playing with a friend and twisted at the wrong time.