It was cold tea.
Thank goodness it was cold and not hot.
I’m not sure if I could deal with hot tea on such a sweltering day. It was in the high 80s and my jeans were already starting to stick to my legs. Really, I should have worn shorts. But I hadn’t shaved in a couple of days and I could just SEE a preschooler running up to me, pointing, and saying, “What’s growing on your knees?”
I was at my daughter’s tea party at school. Before the tea, the teacher called on them one by one and they announced what they wanted to be when they grew up. One little boy said he wanted to be a Daddy. Heart. Melting.
Then it got to Natalie. I should have known what Natalie wanted to be.
Yup. (Oh, and that green blob is Pascal. I asked. She was offended that I even had to ask. “It’s PAS-CAL!” she breathed. I was half surprised she didn’t add, “Duh.”)
She truly believes she’s going to be Rapunzel when she’s older. It’s why I’m not allowed to cut her hair. Ever. She’s never had a hair cut. If I say I want to get the ends neatened up she’ll clamp her hands over her head and start to cry. “You can’t! It’s magic! YOU’LL RUIN IT!”
It’s still cute though. At least she didn’t say she wanted to be an inanimate object like a shovel or a bucket.
Then it came time for the (cold!) tea. Hot tea probably wouldn’t have been a good mix with a bunch of four and five years olds anyway. Someone would inevitably spill, cry, and possibly throw something.
And the tea was SWEET tea. Even better. I love sweet tea.
So does Natalie:
I can’t wait to show Natalie her Rapunzel picture when she’s older. I’ll be like, “Remember when you were going to be Rapunzel when you grew up?...”
And then she’ll probably go, “I was FIVE when I drew that. Duh.”