I don't know what it is about The Farm, but something about it inspires Bailey to wear a white dress. Maybe she's still thinking about the time we were in Denver and went to a restaurant called The White Fence Farm. It was pretty awesome and if you're ever in the Denver area, you should definitely check it out. It's a requirement. Tourism advertisement aside, Bailey insisted upon wearing white again. To the farm.
Now if you remember last time, it wasn't pretty. She took what otherwise would've been a beautiful eyelet dress and turned it into something worthy of nothing more than becoming a rag. It's amazing what oil on an old tractor can do to a white dress. So, I expected nothing less from Bailey when she requested another white dress. Only Bailey would wish to wear a white dress to a farm, because I certainly wouldn't. And I recall the day we bought this dress at Kohl's because Daddy nor Mommy thought buying it was such a good idea, but Bailey really liked it, and hey, she has her right to pick out her own clothes, right?
And so on Thursday when she wanted to wear it, I thought quite evilly to myself, "well, at least you'll never have to worry about it again because it's going to be ruined." I know, what an optimistic attitude I had, and although I made sure we'd avoid any antique tractors with greasy pieces, I just knew we'd find another way to ruin this specific dress.
Then when Bailey headed to the big white barn early on in our trip to get some ice cream and soon after chose a fudge pop, I knew we'd found our potential culprit. If she'd eaten it inside, we might have been just fine.
But no. She couldn't stay indoors with the smell of live cows and away from the heat of the sun.
The moment we hit the sun's rays from our park bench that white dress with the yellow flower was doomed. But Bailey was so cute holding her dress from further being tainted by the drops of fudge. She tried her best, but the damage was done. And by that point, she might as well just finish it, even though I took a grudgingly deep breath every time I watched another drop of fudge hit the fabric and hung my head in shame each time another person walked by admiring her cuteness and the messy little fudge face.
I'm not sure what my problem was though, because it was so darn cute. And even though my insecure instinct was then to take her immediately back to the car for a quick change, we persisted on and went to do some mining. There, a nice volunteer at the farm asked me, "What kind of method or detergent do you use to keep that dress so beautifully white?" My answer? "We'll see." She had a puzzled expression as I followed with, "I have no idea. I guess we'll find out."
After mining, we headed out because it was hot. She wanted to change her clothes after all, and I was okay with that since we had a stop to make. I did tell her it was okay though. And if you're wondering, it's white again. Fudge comes out much easier than oil. The dress will see another day, and have another chance to be forever stained. I guess white wasn't such a bad idea, and really, that fudge could've dripped on anything.
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