“I’m still like Nicole. . .”
This is a picture of Nicole the other day before school. I have a love/hate relationship with her sense of style. I love it when it works out, but sometimes it’s a delicate balance between looking fun and colorful and looking like she should ride the short bus to school. I talked her into the denim shorts that morning. She’s generally opposed to denim (she has refused to wear jeans for years). After getting dressed we went upstairs where I started making breakfast and she sat down at a Xylophone and started banging on it while singing “I’m still like Nicole, I’m still like Nicole!” I don’t know if she felt her identity was challenged by the denim or if she was just proud of her outfit that morning, but somehow the song seemed to be related to her outfit. Also, the song went on and on and consisted entirely of that one line repeated over and over until her father yelled from the other room that it was too early to be banging on a Xylophone.