To tell you the truth, I don’t even know how she found out about it. Somehow she got a brochure. Do they pass these things out somewhere? Since this was the little girl who had once sent out invitations to a party I knew nothing about and promised that there would be candy and goodies and that I would allow party-goers to “trash the downstairs” (seriously), why was I surprised that she found out about the pageant, got the brochure, and sent it in?
So our pageant packet came. The first thing we were supposed to do, naturally, was get a sponsor to donate money, such as a local business man. Little Miss had to go asking for money, so this could be the hurdle that might push the pageant idea into the trash.
“The packet says ask a storekeeper, or doctor, or dentist,” she said.
My husband thought this was a hilarious idea. “The dentist! Yeah! Get him to pay OUT for a change.”
Little Miss put on her cutest dress and was quite charming. It wasn’t long before we were driving home with a check in my purse.
Now we had to come up with a dress. Little Miss went right to her Grandma, as she was an experienced seamstress, and the two of them concocted something right out of Disney’s wildest dreams. Fluff! Pouffy! Pink! Bows!
When Little Miss went to try it on, Grandma had her go out in the front yard for photos and the ENTIRE neighborhood of the senior mobile home park came out to see. Gushing! Gooing! Snapshots! Little Miss was thrilled. I took about a hundred pictures.
Her dad was going to need a tuxedo to walk her down the runway and he readily complied. See last three sentences of former paragraph. Repeat, repeat, repeat. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea.
The big day came, and believe me it was all day. Hordes of little girls and moms arrived at the hotel conference center, and yikes, I was horrified to be one of them. A pageant mom, yep, that’s me. It was no use hiding in the bathroom. Little Miss was dancing around and starry eyed.
Everywhere we turned there was stuff for sale: tiaras, programs, professional photographs. Pageants are a money-making venture, so watch your pocketbook.
The little girls were not allowed to wear make-up of any kind, so moms had nothing to do but fluff petticoats and curl hair. The hotel was humming with curling irons.
After the initial promenade of 280 smiling, strutting, crying, skipping, or fleeing little princesses, it was time to get in the interview dress. The girls went in to be interviewed ten at a time, and each was to sit in front of a grown-up who would ask them questions. Parents had to wait outside. We squirmed in our chairs and wondered how she was faring.
Little Miss re-emerged to spy our eager faces. “Well,” she said, “I had a very fat man ask me questions.”
“What did he ask?” we clamored.
“He asked if he came to my house, what I would fix him for dinner.”
“What did you say?” I asked, picturing fish sticks and macaroni and cheese, my children’s favorite dinner.
“I said: “For you? Lean Cuisine.’”
Her dad nearly fell down laughing.
“Well, he was pretty fat,” Little Miss asserted.
“No! You said that?” I was trying to control my burst of laughter and be serious.
“No, I didn’t really,” she confessed. “But I thought it.”
“So what did you really say?”
“Well I thought about what a big man like him might like to hear. So I told him steak and mashed potatoes.”
Here I had been worried that she would say “orange doo-doos”, which is what my kids used to call macaroni and cheese when they couldn’t say orange noodles. They remained “orange doo-doos” looooooong after they could say noodles.
“Well steak and potatoes was a good choice,” I said, nodding.
Next came a long wait for the other girls to finish up interviewing, and we were stuck in a bland hotel conference room. It had chairs lining the walls and little else. Little Miss can’t sit still very long and lasted about fifteen minutes. Other girls looked like they were going to fall asleep or burst into tears any minute.
“Awwwright,” Little Miss announced, jumping up. “We’re playin’ Turtle Tag!”
Little girls rubbed their sleepy eyes and those about to cry stilled their quivering lips. Moms looked curious. I said nothing and remained seated. One never knows what Little Miss might dream up.
“Moms on this side of the room, girls on that side,” she ordered.
The girls readily jumped up at the promise of a game. Some of the moms did too, I imagine they were as bored as I was.
Little Miss filled them in on the rules and said, “Ready, go!” Screaming and merriment commenced. A half an hour later, red faced cherubs and giggling moms barely heard the pageant official who came to announce we had to get ready for the next event.
Little Miss and her daddy walked down the runway together and she struck poses at the end of the runway and beamed at the judges like she had been doing this since she was two. Where did she learn to do that?
By the time it was all over, she was “best friends forever” with the girl who went on to win the whole thing. Little Miss ran up to her when her crown was announced and hugged her with the obligatory tears as if it were a Miss America pageant. Little Miss herself finished in the top 10% so went home with happy memories.
I did too, but it didn’t have anything to do with crowns and dresses.
If you ever decide to do one of these things, just let me know and I’ll send you the directions to Turtle Tag.
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