School pictures.
Those words are enough to send me running for the nearest corner, where you'll find me rocking back-and-forth in the fetal position.
I hated school pictures with the fire of 1,000,000 suns. Every year they were a special sort of torture involving unfortunate wardrobe choices, bad hair, splotchy skin, tears, pain, torture, and did I mention unfortunate wardrobe choices? Yeah. Those.
My mother never let me have a say in what I wore for school pictures. Eventually I figured out to pack what I wanted and change once I got to school, but before that, HOOBOY.
Let's just say that a woman whose closet contains a kaleidoscope of polyester elastic-waisted pants and brightly-patterned tent-like tops should not be making wardrobe decisions for a school-aged kid. If I had copies of any of the photos, I would happily post them, if only because I'd be sure to win the Bloggy for Most Pitied Blogger. Voting would be a landslide.
Today was Alexis' School Picture Day. In the past, it's been nothing short of a disaster. The episodes have ranged from her refusing to pose without a teacher holding her, right on up to the most recent attempt when she glared at the photographer, told him, "You're not funny," and then stormed off. Rumor has it one photo was taken of that fateful day, but the photographer didn't even bother to print it. Frankly, I was a little sad because I thought it had the potential to be the Worst Photo Ever.
Despite The Disaster that is Alexis' School Pictures, she still LOVES the hype. They take them twice a year at her preschool, so twice a year she bounces home the day before The Disaster, eagerly chattering about what she's going to wear and how cute she is going to look.
Yesterday was no exception. Before I could even blink, Alexis had picked out a red sundress and summer shoes. I knew it was only going to be in the low 60's today, but I am Captain Overcompensation, so I let her have her way. So what if she would freeze all day! She would be wearing the clothing of her choice! Go me!
In order to fully own my title Captain Overcompensation, I also had to do the kid's bidding and French braid her hair. I got up an extra twenty minutes early just to do it. Me. Who doesn't do mornings. And people say the kid is spoiled . . .
The final touch was to fulfill the kid's wish to wear a necklace. As she stood in the bedroom, grinning from ear-to-ear, I looked at her perfectly coifed hair and adorable little dress and thought, "RED!" She needed a red necklace. The only problem was that she doesn't have one, so I carefully opened my jewelry box and gently picked up my red necklace.
It's not an expensive necklace, really, but it is a sort of "real" necklace. It's turquoise and red, made of sterling silver and whatever kind of stones. It wasn't terribly expensive, but it was hella lot more expensive than the plastic Mardi Gras beads the kid usually wears. With a flourish, I placed it gently around Alexis' neck, watching as her eyes lit up like fireworks.
She. was. thrilled.
"You're the best momma EVER!" she declared.
Overcompensation has it's perks. For sure.
Just before we piled into the car, I asked Alexis to show me her Pretty Girl Smile that she was going to put on display for the school photographer. I got this:
Yeah. So. School Pictures. I have very low expectations.