Wednesday in France is called “le jour des enfants.” Traditionally, kids don’t have school on Wednesdays, or if the do it is only for a half day. Wednesday is the day for extracurriculars: in our house, it is Circus School for a little scalawag and Music School for the big.
I don’t exactly know why, but I like to dress fancy on Wednesdays. It goes back to my pandemic dressing thing: it is the fairy Princess Mama in me who wants to feel a little magical when feeling magical is at a premium.
The truth is, that I didn’t notice this tendency until I started making mise en place a rule. For some reasons, as, on Tuesday evening I imagined the day ahead, my hand instantly reached for a petticoat or a dress.
Today I went beyond petticoat. I went full-on tutu. Tutu, lace leggings, elf boots, the whole nine yards.
So picture this: Our weather went from about 10 degrees Fahrenheit to 60 in three days. There had been a non-negligible amount of snow. There is mud everywhere. It is Wednesday. I take the scalawags to the park.
The boys are filthy. I mean, mud from the tips of their ears to the spokes on their tires. I, Fairy Princess Mama, sit tutu-clad on a bench listening to them yell at each other. And then one comes in for a snuggle.
I wail “noooooooooo!” to no avail.
Once the snuggle was over and I saw that the damage may or may not be permanent, I realized that I would far rather have a muddy tutu that I can never wear again than a tutu that stays in my closet, pristine but never worn.