Last night, for the first time in at least four years, I stayed out past midnight, leaving Raphaela with our Summer sitter and attending the annual Jerusalem arts fair and an Ivri Leeder concert with friends. I walked into the house close to midnight, charged up and totally awake after an amazing triple encore, and so watched a little television until after one am.
Perhaps I got four hours of sleep last night, and as a result, forgot several minor events this morning while preparing to take Raphaela to camp: we both did not brush our teeth, Raphaela did not apply her lip gloss, and I neglected to saturate any of my daughter's exposed skin with sun screen.
This would be almost acceptable.
Around nine am, in the middle of work, the camp teacher called me at the clinic and explained that apparently Raphaela's underwear had gone missing, though she was fully dressed in every other way. Too embarrassed to explain that I was suffering from rock concert jet lag, I asked her to perhaps find a suitable substitute until I could get there.
The teacher assured me that this happens all the time, and that she keeps a supply of clean underwear and leggings just in case.
In between the enjoyment of having had an adults night out and the feeling of being a terrible mother, I was able to laugh at myself.
Later, I asked Raphaela why she had refused to put on leggings, and she reminded me of the iron-clad rules of her universe:
1. When she is not a magical Baby Unicorn, she is a princess
2. Only princesses have the true gift of dance
3. Neither a princess nor a commoner can dance properly if they are wearing pants or leggings
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