Sunrise, Sunset

It was one of those hectic Sunday mornings.

I've figured out what time we need to get going in the morning, but on this morning, we didn't get going at that time.

We were running about twenty minutes behind when I told my daughters, "Hurry and get ready as fast as you can.  Don't get distracted by anything."

It was a loooooooong time before I saw either of them again, and only after repeated summons.

One daughter appeared in a lovely cream colored dress with a mauve sash and mauve rosebuds.  My favorite.  In her arm was a doll in an identical cream dress with mauve rosebuds.

I had forgotten that that dress had a doll dress that matched it.  She had not.

This daughter is too old to bring a doll to church.  Nevertheless, she was compelled to dress it, instead of herself.

Her sister, who is even older, had spent her getting-ready time finding white ballet slippers for the doll to wear on her feet as she stayed home from church.

The older kids were acting like teenagers--why should they come when called?  After all, it's their life.

Well, life is ironic.  And surreal.  We know that.

By that evening, I found myself, completely by surprise, teaching my doll-dressing daughter how to put on a bra.

One more proof that growing out of childhood is a process, not an event.