My daughter and I went shopping for a prom dress yesterday, and found one at a consignment shop. It's beautiful, she's happy, my mission as a mom is accomplished as soon as we locate absolutely fabulous and affordable shoes. It amuses me to know that 1 hour after she had all the ladies and a few customers enthralled with her waiflike Cinderella drama of deciding which dress, she was center mid on a soccer field, crashing the goal like Katrina barreling down on New Orleans.
^This is Marci last summer, shopping in a vintage store with my mother-in-law. You can see that irresistible tomboy-in-a-ballgown beauty. Such a study in contrasts. And despite the sometimes maddening drama, such a joy.
