what you say will come back to haunt you

My Teresa has a collection of Princess Polly Pocket type dolls that would rival Disney. She has them all: Cinderella, Ariel, Sleeping Beauty, Snow White, and Jasmine. They have these glittery dresses and teeny tiny shoes, even necklaces and purses. She spends countless hours dressing them and playing with them. Here's the thing. Katie thinks Teresa is akin to a god and imitates her in everything. So she has taken to playing with the Polly Pocket sized Princess dolls too. Problem is, she isn't quite able to manuever the miniture royalty into their attire. The dolls are about the size of my finger and their arms aren't much wider than a spaghetti noodle. I shake my fists and curse the powers that be as I manipulate the Princesses into their glittery sparklely ball gowns and shoes the size of a grain of rice. I cry when Kate decides it's not the right dress and wants to change her almost immediately. And the glitter...it rubs off onto my finger (because I'm sweating from the stress of trying to dress them without beheading them). Then I rub my eyes or itch my nose and don't realize I've got glitter all over my face until after I get back from running errands, during which I ran into just about everybody I know. So anyways...the other day I spent the better part of a morning dressing and undressing Jasmine. During this marathon fashion show some of the glitter got all over Jasmine's painted on undergarments. Katie thought this was absolutely hilarious. She went around saying "Jasmine's got a sparklely bum!" and dissolved into fits of giggles. So I thought I'd be funny and said "Gee, I wish I had a sparklely bum" and I was rewarded with not just Katie's delighted giggles but Teresa and Sam collapsed laughing as well.

Let's fast forward a few days. I got a phone call from Teresa's teacher to sort out a little mix up over her conference date. As we were getting ready to say our goodbyes she shared a funny little story. During sharing time Teresa raised her hand and told her entire class that her Mumma wished she had a sparklely bum. I can only imagine the talk around the teacher's room this little tidbit ignited. So moral is: Potty talk may make people laugh but it will come back to bite your sparkling bum.