Pajama Day.

On Sunday Cecilia told us that Monday was "Pajama Day" as part of their Valentine's Day festivities. They sometimes do this for special days or as a class reward, so I didn't give it a second thought. At bedtime she was giggling about how she wouldn't need to get ready before school because all she needed to wear was her jammies, and went on to add that she could also bring a blanket and stuffed animal. Fine fine. Go to sleep.

And off she went in her pajamas. About 1/2 hour later the phone rang, and it was my darling daughter on the verge of tears telling me that it was NOT pajama day. I told her we'd run some clothes to school ASAP and tried to reassure her that was not a big deal and not to worry. I also sent a Valentine's cupcake and a note telling her how much I love her because I was so worried about her well-being.

And then I hung up the phone and started to cry like the baby I am.

You know that feeling when you show up somewhere and realize you've done something wrong? You brought the wrong thing or wore the wrong thing or went to the wrong place? I hate that feeling. And, while I acknowledge that I'm more than a little neurotic, I think everyone has had an experience like that where they felt foolish in front of people they didn't want to look foolish in front of. Like the time my sister was giving a fake eulogy for a speech class in high school and actually started to cry. Because she was sad. About our mother's FAKE death.

At any rate, Cecilia was able to get changed without anyone discovering her error (thank goodness for a t-shirt under her jammies and snowpants over the top to buy some time). Because she's stable and lovely and has plenty of self-esteem, she came home laughing about the whole thing and wasn't nearly as traumatized as I was. I think her middle school years are going to destroy me.

But from here on out, no jammies to school unless I have something in writing.