Amanda wanted to help, and I have to say that she's at the age now where she actually is helpful, which is nice.
So we were in the scone zone when she decided that I was missing something.
Amanda: Mom, you should be wearing an apron.
Me: No, I'm fine.
Amanda: I'm going to get you an apron.
Me: No, thank you.
She returned with a darling apron that she had made for me last year in 3rd grade, with her handprints on it.
Amanda: Here. Put this on.
Me: Amanda, I don't want to wear one.
Amanda: Why not? You should wear an apron so your clothes don't get messy. Put it on!
How many times to I have to tell this kid I DON'T WANT TO WEAR A STINKIN' APRON?! At this point I'm just fed up. Which, by the way, is not a good place to be, because you start spoutin' off what you really think. And that usually gets people's feelers all hurt and stuff.
Me: Amanda, for the last time, I'm NOT going to wear an apron. I don't like aprons. I never will like aprons. The one you have on right now was given to me 16 years ago when I got married, and I've worn it once. If THAT!
Yeah. Never a good idea to be honest with a 9 year old.
Amanda: So you don't like the apron I made for you in 3rd grade?
Me: Of course I like the apron you made me! I just don't want to wear it!
Cue depressing Charlie Brown music as Amanda hangs her head and walks slowly to her bedroom and shuts the door. Fantastic. Way to go, mom.
I suppose I should have just explained to her why aprons bug me so much. It's something I've always known, but had never heard anyone else verbalize until last year when I was visiting with my cousin-in-law Rochelle (see cute photo below):
She pointed out that aprons always seem to shift a little up top, if you know what I mean. And if you don't know what I mean, here's a visual for ya:
I swear, every time I've worn an apron, this happens. It shifts over, hugging one "side", and leaving the other all open and vulnerable. I can't think of anything more annoying while you're trying to cook. Well, cooking is actually pretty annoying in and of itself. But add a shifty apron to the mix, and this gal's got a one way ticket to the funny farm. Only no one's laughing.
P.S. Rochelle gave me permission to mention her name in this blog. She did NOT give me permission, however, to swipe one of her facebook photos for this post, which I totally did. What I really wanted, was a photo of the two of us sporting shifty aprons, but she lives an hour away (Waaaa!) So, that's why the facebook photo had to be swiped. As for the pic of yours truly, I got Megan to take that one. Not the most flattering, I know, but I felt it was necessary for the integrity of this post. (Integrity? Ha! That's kinda' funny.)