Let's back up, though. Last evening, I was jolted out of my chair by a blood curdling scream coming from outside. Moms know when it is their kid's voice, don't we? Well I flew out the door and sure enough, there lay Tink, two scraped and bloodied knees, yelling as though they had been amputated. The way she carries on when she gets hurt, I keep expecting to find her missing a limb. I help her up the stairs (no easy task for me. I usually need help up the stairs) and much to my chagrin I find that I have packed the bandaids already. So, I sit her with a warm wet washcloth over the wounds (of course it is a white one. I packed the red ones) and ran over to the neighbor's house. She's a fine neighbor. She gave me a couple bandaids, offered me bactine, sutures, a cast, a wheelchair... as she was getting the stuff, I mentioned that it was her picture day. She also let me borrow her curling iron. She had once curled Tink's hair and it looked adorable. Back I go to fix up the kid. Of course she is in shock at how red the washcloth has become. Well I get her all cleaned up and bandaged. All the while, I am thinking, you little klutz, you HAD to do this the day before pictures? She is going to be in her beautiful new dress, with 2 nasty bandaids peeking out from underneath them. Yes, I know the picture only comes down to her chest, but still...only she would have this happen to her. OK, so I get over it. This morning. She wakes up and comes out of her room whining because her knees are "sticky". I ask her to show me. She lifts her nightgown, and the bandaids are gone. I ask where they are. "I don't know". I tell her to get in the bed and find them. How disgusting! Now she is mad that I told her to do that. And she is crying. And she hates me. And I ruined her day. So I go looking through some of the packed boxes to find the bandaids I packed (I thought I knew where they were, but I just wanted a couple of them right away the day before). Got the bandaids. Get her cleaned up again. (her knees were sticky from the adhesive) These bandaids are much nicer looking. I think she may just look OK. She puts on her dress. It is beautiful. One of those that hangs down a little lower in the back than the front. It is chocolate brown, with melon/coral and turquoise flowers. I curl her hair. She looks amazing. I let her put on a little lipstick. She is an angel. Her shoes are packed. I remember thinking, "we don't have any occasions before the move. We can pack these shoes." Can't wear flip flops. Too cold. She can only find one croc. Her white gym shoes are at school. DO YOU KNOW WHAT I LET MY DAUGHTER WEAR TO SCHOOL WITH HER DRESS? The most disgusting, stinky (because she wears them with no socks) filthy black vans. With pink skulls on them. I had no other choice. All her other shoes were packed. I wrote a note to her teachers. I asked them if they could have her stand in the back during the class picture.