Too Much, Too Soon
“Mom, Mom, we have to go to the store,” Annette raced into the kitchen where her mother, Sarah, sat at the table snapping beans. “For our last Home Ec project we have to make a dress, so I have to get a pattern and some material.”
Sarah smiled at her daughter. “O.k.” We’ll go right away before the store closes.”
In the store Annette looked carefully through all the patterns. Finally she said, “I want this one.”
Sarah frowned. “That’s a little advanced for a first-year home ec project. “ She said. “See all these ruffles that are sewn into the skirt. I think you should choose a simpler pattern.”
“No,” insisted Annette, “I can make this. The others are too boring. I’ll make it with this pretty material.” She picked up a bolt of material with red roses on a white background. Sarah spread some of the material out on the table.
“Are you sure you don’t want a softer color?”
“Oh, no, Mom. These roses are so pretty.” Sarah was doubtful, but this
needed to be Annette’s choice. Reluctantly, she paid for the pattern and material.
Every day after school Annette worked on the dress. Ripping out yet another section, she grimaced. Mom was right--it was a hard dress to make. The ruffles were especially difficult. Still, she kept on, ripping sections out and doing them over.
Finally the day before the dresses were due, it was finished and she tried it on. It didn’t fit very well. She tugged at it here and there trying to make it quit puckering at the waist. The ruffles were a bit uneven too. Well, it was so pretty maybe no one would notice.
In Home Ec class the girls all put on their newly-made dresses to model, and so Mrs. Agnes could see how they fit.
Happily, Annette slipped her dress on, tugging at the waist, Then she looked at the other girls and her heart sank. They had all made simple, straight-lined dresses in soft, pastel solid colors or dainty prints.
Annette looked at her dress, with it’s crooked ruffles, its too busy pattern. It looked frumpy and cheap. Her cheeks flamed as she got in line.
That night she sobbed in Sarah’s arms. “It was so awful, Mom. All the other girls were whispering behind their hands and laughing at me.”
“I’m sorry, baby,” Sarah said, “It’s o.k. You’ll do better next year.”
Holding her sobbing daughter in her arms, Sarah sighed. Some lessons must be learned the hard way.
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