Her own drummer

My baby girl is an absolute original. She has her own way and style about her. Those who try to force her peg into a differently shaped whole usually end in defeat.

We had a rough year last year. While I try my best to respect her hodgepodge creative space, we clash sometimes. Unfortunately, as a teacher she had someone who only saw kids in very specific, certain terms (Is the Breakfast Club running through your head?). The year was spent with EPIC battles over in brushed hair, messy desks, dropped book bags, and mismatched socks, all battles I'd chosen as futile long ago. It was a looooong year.

Today, I thought about how much more relaxed she is this year, and during this ruminating, I happened to look down at Brownie's feet, and her mismatched socks.

Vive la difference!