Well this is the reason I didn't post last night. Toy Chica was ready to go, then the 11 year old changed her mind and wanted rigid legs and decided she was not smooth enough. Oh we had tears and much wailing. How she was going to fail, end up on the red traffic light and generally be a complete loser for the rest of her life.
At 9pm I insisted she went to bed and promised I would finish it. I did toy with being a firm parent and sanctimoniously preach about how less time on the play station and more on her homework might have been a good idea. I thought about it. Whether it was a lesson she needed. But she was so upset and I hope (although doubt) next time will be different. Why did I help? Because I love her and because she is like me. I finished a degree (hons) with the Open University last year and I think that bar one, all assignments were submitted during the very last minutes. The final one I worked right through the night and sent it at 5am. Sadly the 11 year old has inherited the last minute dot com gene. I'm not proud but there you have it, like mother like daughter.
This morning there were happy smiles and lots of decorating going on. The doll is so wet with paint and varnish she cannot be moved and I dare not clean up the mess around her just in case she gets knocked. Hopefully she will have dried out enough to make her debut at school tomorrow. If anything falls off during transit I think the 11 year old will faint!
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