Mini Fashionistas

There is something totally adorable about Spanish kids. When I was three, I wasn't wearing cute little jumpers with matching tights and boots. I wasn't wearing little sweater vests over dresses and tiny peacoats. My American Girl Doll was, but I was spending most my time in overalls or some form of floral print pants that my mom sewed. And we can't forget the excessive butterfly tee-shirts or the baseball caps. Being fashion forward was, obviously, my number one life goal.

In Spain, it is a great day when I can walk down the street and feel like I am dressed half as well as the little boys in strollers. Maria, my three year old t

hat I nanny (not mine daughter wise, just possessively because she's adorable) has countless pairs of tiny little boots, slippers, summer sneakers, and Keds. If I could resize them, I would love to be the owner of her wardrobe.

Maria's mom asked me on Monday if I would like to start picking her up from school. Any opportunity to be around little kids (in a totally not pedophile, drive by elementary schools every day way) sounds great to me. I love kids; most the time, I wish that I could just go back to being five years old and not having to worry about real life. Monica walked with me today, to show me how to pick up Maria.

I have been "nannying/babysitting/teaching English too" Maria since mid-October. One would think that, after all this time, I would be able to immediately see her in a crowd and know with total confidence which one she was. But there was the fleeting second that, as we walked through the masses of three and four year olds, all of whom were wearing identical uniforms with matching backpacks and ponytails, that I doubted my abilities to find her. I could just see it: Tuesday would roll around, I would show up to pick

her up, and theoretically gotten the time right, and would not be able to tell which one she was. Then I would have to wait for all the other little kids to get picked up, and find the last one, crying in a corner, and take her home. Good plan. Luckily that moment was about two seconds and then I saw her bossing a little boy into giving her his yogurt drink. That girl knows what she wants, and knows exactly how to get it. God willing, next Tuesday when I pick her up, I won't have that worst case scenario happen and become the world's worst future mother.

Just to show you what a fashionable little girl I was....