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After searching high and low for the card of blue-gray buttons meant for Lexi’s frock, I gave up. As a parent though it’s possible to give up without giving in. For me this meant digging out the scraps and making two coordinating fabric covered buttons.

Thinking I was really clever I measured, sewed and cut the button holes. Assembled said buttons from coordinating scraps and fixed them to the front of the frock.

Lexi seemed to have forgotten all about the coveted frog buttons and wore the frock around the house, happily twirling and twisting the long hemmed skirt of it, testing it for tricycle safety and showing it off to her brother and father.

Then my husband informed me that she’d taken off the dress and left it in my sewing area. Now there’s only one reason anyone leaves anything in the sewing area and thats for mending.

I picked up the dress wondering if one of the seams had given way, or if indeed the hemline was not exactly tricycle proofed.

No.

It’s missing a button.

“Lexi, what happened to the button?”

“I cut it off.”

“Why?”

“It was wet.”

“How did it get wet?”

“There was spit on it.”

“How did it get spit on it?”

“I spit on it.”

“You spit on it and cut it off your dress?”

“Yes.”

“I’m going to fix it.”

“Oh, you need a button!” Lexi produces the card of frog buttons.

Now at this point I have to give her credit for being persistent if nothing else and for planning ahead to create some kind of (demented as it may be) cover story. I could have asked her why she spit on the button in the first place, but I figure that’s probably self evident as she seems to hate all buttons excluding the frog buttons.