Better than a puppy

Bill has a sister that lives in upstate New York and she has two girls that are 11 and 13.  Every so often, she'll box up some of their favorite outgrown clothes and some books and ship it off to us for the girls.  

Today we received one of those boxes.  I remember Bill telling me that she was sending one out, but I didn't know when, so it was a bit of a surprise.  The doorbell rang and the girls, thinking it was one of their friends from down the road, ran to the door.  They started squealing about a package and my first thought was the sprays that I ordered yesterday, and I was just amazed at the speedy delivery!  Then they dragged in the big ol' box and I knew it couldn't be that.

Isabelle decided as I was trying to get the packing tape off that it must be a puppy.  Why she thought her aunt was sending her a puppy, I don't know.  I tried to explain to her that if it were a puppy that it wouldn't be much fun to play with after being sealed up in a box and shipped halfway across the country, but she was just adamant that it was a puppy.

I finally got the box open and their faces fell for a moment when it was confirmed that it was not a puppy, just clothes and books.  I started pulling out the clothes to see what sizes they were (just a size or two bigger than where my girls are, which is perfect) and they saw something that sent them into probably the loudest, most pure pre-tween ecstacy I've ever had to experience with them to date.

Training bras.

Remember how I wrote yesterday that I wasn't ready to buy them training bras and went with camisoles instead?  Oh, Lord... I really wasn't ready.

They were just in rapture over these tiny little bras.  It was ridiculous.

They each put on a training bra (even Zoe, who refuses to be left behind no matter what).  Olivia, poor little stick figure, was just too skinny for all of them really, but she didn't care.  Isabelle put one on and was mad that it didn't fit, so I made her take it off and put it on again, just not upside down.  There's definitely some training involved in the wearing of training bras....

We went out for dinner.  All wearing bras.  Olivia's, being too big on her, kept creeping up and peeking out of the neck of her shirt, so she kept tugging it back down, and I kept telling her to stop it.  We're in public for Pete's sake.  The waitress stopped to tell me how sweet the girls were and Isabelle yanks down the neck of her shirt to tell the waitress they got bras today!  Please, make it stop!

We had a discussion in the van after dinner about how bras are like panties.  Private.  We don't show them off or adjust them at the dinner table.  Ever.

I'm really, really not ready for this, you guys.

Then, at bedtime, Olivia decides she needs to sleep in just her bra and panties.  Dude, seriously...  *I* don't sleep that undressed... where the heck do they get this crap from?  I implemented a new rule that you must be dressed enough when you go to bed to be able to run from the house in a fire.  She put on some pajamas.

I have a feeling that my husband is going to say a little more than "Thank you" to his sister when he talks to her.  

In the midst of all of this, I told Olivia that her cousin just turned 13, which to Olivia is THE age to be.  She asks me all the time "Mom, when I turn 13 can I (fill in the blank)?"  So, she worships her cousin now.  She sat down and wrote her a letter asking her to please tell her all about being 13.  I'm sure this will be quite an interesting exchange.  =)