This morning The Dormouse insisted on wearing this outfit to school. I don't usually let her wear dresses to school; in preschool, they always wanted the kids in play clothes. Also, The Dormouse had a tendency back then to invite the world to see her underwear when she had a dress on and we were asked politely to consider one of three options: not bring her back in a dress again, have her wear shorts under her dress, or have our daughter face sexual harassment charges. So I guess I'm still a little sensitive about that.

This morning was a bit hairy. We were one car down after I was stranded last night in The KoH's car after rehearsal (in the last ten years, we've had seven cars, but we've had nine and now maybe ten engines -- there has GOT to be some car shaped voo-doo doll with me sitting in the drivers' seat somewhere. If you come across it, will you kindly take the pin out of the engine, please?) and we were trying to work out the logistics of how everyone was going to get everywhere. (Also - we managed to send The Dormouse to school without lunch and with no lunch money. We're such good parents.)

Anyway, I was not in the mood to argue with The Dormouse about appropriate clothing to wear to school. She came out with the dress and I told her in no uncertain terms that she was to go back and get some pants and that was the end of the discussion. She looked totally dejected and whined, "But moooooooom! We're supposed to wear red, white and blue because it's a holiday."

"No, it is NOT a holiday today," I snapped, "Now just go get dressed."

"It is too a holiday! My teacher told me. It's Celebrate America Day. I want to wear my red, white and blue dress to celebrate America."

And then it hit me.

It's the eleventh of September.

She was talking about September 11th.

To my four year old, today is just the day you wear red, white and blue and talk about America. Nothing more.

I know that one day this will change for her. She'll learn about September 11th, like I learned about Pearl Harbor Day. She'll come to appreciate the gravity of the anniversary but never really have experienced it first hand. My daughter doesn't remember a day when two thousand, nine hundred and seventy-four people were killed for doing nothing more than going to work on a Tuesday.

How I envy her.