Farewell, Cinderella

We've hit a landmark. Carson's infant seats have been stashed in the garage since he grew out of them last spring, and we've needed to sell them.

Today I said to Ella, "is there anything you feel like you might be too old for, honey?" thinking we could load all the images up on Craigslist at once.

She went to that area of her closet where all her princess dresses have hung, slowly getting less and less use as the novelty has worn away. Could it be true?

She's over it. There were no tears. No hesitation. I quickly recognized my propensity for dramatizing this sort of activity, so I stood up, took a deep breath, and went to fetch a bag to put them all in.

Off they'll go to a good friend with a lovely little daughter who I know will appreciate them. As I loaded all the gear into the bag I thought, "good riddance."

Then I remembered those mornings where she'd show up at the door of our room in full Cinderella getup, giggling from her high heels to that plastic tiara.


Then I reached down into the bag and took the tiara back.
Just in case.