Giggling Uncontrollably and Inappropriately

Daughter 1's bra broke. She has more than one bra, but this was her favorite bra. It may have been her favorite bra because it's the one she can actually find, but none the less, it was her favorite bra. And, it didn't break so much as the underwire poked out. It might as well have stabbed her in the heart and left her die.

I suggested, when she told me of this at 8:15 yesterday evening, that she just pull the wire out. Well, you know that can't be done, right? Because then she'd be lopsided. Plus? It's a stupid idea, donchaknow.

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"So, are you going to get me another bra?" she asked me as I shooed her to bed. I sighed.

I was weary. It's the first week of school, and we started on a Tuesday, which means that I have spent all week having super weird dreams about Robin Williams being my student and old boyfriends hiring me to coach track and stuff like that. I'm not rested. I'm tired. And now, I had to go back out and get a bra.

"I guess," I whined. "If you really can't find your other bras."

"I really can't, Momma." And she said Momma with a heavy sigh in her voice.

Brian passed by me as I was walking out the door.

"Want me to go get the bra?" he asked as he kissed my forehead.

"Nah," I responded, grabbed my keys and headed out.

Then, as I stood at the bra display, grabbing bra after bra that is Daughter 1's size, but becoming completely perplexed by the numerous kinds of bras that were at a young girls' disposal, I realized the error of my ways.

I should have let Brian go get the bra. Holy cow! If I were perplexed, his testosterone filled head might have actually exploded making the choice.

Or he would have come home with a white, knit over-your-head sports bra.

Either way, it would have been hysterical.

And that's how I came to be standing in the lingerie section, by myself, flipping through bras, giggling uncontrollably.