Why a Leotard is a Royal Pain in My Prissy Crown

I remember the day so vividly.  Why wouldn’t I?  Everyone typically remembers the day when an ultrasound tech delivers the news of the sex of your unborn baby.  It’s a happy moment, but hearing “It’s a girl!” brought on a feeling of elation for me.

At 40, I knew she was going to be my last child, and to be told that I was going to be able to experience life having both a son and daughter was certainly a true blessing.  After two miscarriages and the diagnosis of “you’re just getting older, and it’s more difficult to find a good egg,” we really felt blessed just to be able to have a second child.  That was the miracle.  Having a girl, well, that was just icing on the cake.

And sweet icing it was, indeed!

Baby Diva, born in 2009

Growing up, I guess you could call me a prissy girl.  Even though I wasn’t big on wearing bows or dresses, dirt certainly wasn’t my friend.  Neither was any type of ball or physical education class, unless we learned a dance routine.  On those rare dance days, I didn’t fake a stomachache.

All I wanted in my life were tutus, pompoms, a baton, white majorette boots, a tiara, makeup, and a leotard.

Raising my son, we didn’t have any of those items in the house, except I did sneak in some pompoms one day.  Unfortunately, our fat cat kept eating the pompom strings, so I had to give them to my girlfriend’s daughter.  My son got to play with all of those items weekly when he went to his little girlfriend’s house, and some of my fondest memories are of him dressed in a tutu and a crown. 

So naturally when I heard, “It’s a girl!” visions of pompoms and tiaras danced in my head.

As a toddler, Baby Diva loves balls, climbing, and dirt, everything that her mommy didn’t. In fact, she likes all of that more than her brother, actually. But she loves to dance and tumble, too. 

Naturally, as soon as I could, the prissy side of me enrolled her in gymnastics classes.

I also couldn’t resist buying her a blue leotard.

She loves this leotard. 

What was I thinking? 

I should have bought pompoms instead to drive my husband crazy with the fall-out strands on the carpet.

But, no, I didn’t do that.  Instead, I bought a one-piece leotard for a diaper-wearing child, and this one piece of clothing has essentially become a royal pain in my prissy crown.

She loves the leotard.  She wants to wear it on Monday when gymnastics is on Wednesday.  She doesn’t want to take it off for me to change her diaper. 

She doesn’t want to put on pants over the leotard when it’s 45 degrees outside.

I have created a leotard-wearing monster.

But I think it’s made her ready for dance class.  And she may be the only girl I know that wears a leotard while shooting some baskets. 

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