I had to redo the dress. I really, really had to. After I'd made Jasmine's dress (different method, same dress) and tried it on Tyran, saw how beautifully it hung, etc I HAD to redo Hayley's. It's her party after all... That's my excuse and I'm sticking to it. I won't have any of you blaming this on perfectionism.
I loaded the kids into the car and we trotted off to Hobbycraft to get some fabric. I could save the bodice (thank goodness)and the lining, but the organza and netting didn't stand up to the unpicking very well. The good news is I'm happy with it now. The dress hangs beautifully on her now, it looks lovely enough for her to wear it as an oridnary party dress rather than just a dressing up dress, so all is well with the world. You might not be able to notice a difference, but I can.
Also, the photo of the fondant princesses as promised. These will sit on top of upside down cupcakes covered in embossed fondant. Kind of like the Barbie cake idea, but individual ones for each child at the party. That's the plan anyway. and before you ask, it was just easier to do them all the same. Ish.
This afternoon I managed to get the butterflies for the cake for Sharon's house painted too. They look very, erm... colourful! Tyran's informed me that I'm the best butterfly painter ever and Hayley's verdict was "Well they're pretty good I suppose." Nothing like a little gratitude eh?
Speaking of gratitude, I have to share the shoe saga with you. Both kids have had a sudden growth spurt. Hayley's was expected because she's been looking rather chubby recently. Tyran's has caught me off guard. As a result, they both need new shoes, having gone up a whole shoe size each. Not a problem for Tyran, we get to walk into a shop, pick the shoes we like, try them and pay for them. (Ok, it's slightly more difficult because our tastes are vastly different, mine NOT being influenced by what the other 6 year olds in our road are wearing.) Not so with Hayley. Her feet are a nightmare for shoes. High instep, significantly wider at the front than on her very narrow heel, and a troublesome pokier than usual ankle. We were in the shoe shop for half an hour, she tried on countless pairs of shoes and we were getting nowhere. We were both tired (WHY did I take her the end of a work day???), but eventually we left, sans shoes and went to another shoe shop. Repeat performance, only this time with a salesperson who wasn't desperate to sell me anything, but was exceedingly helpful and patient. She tried on a further 6 pairs of shoes, all no good, when the woman said she remembered there were other red ones in the back room that no-one asks for, but might do. (She was under strict instruction not to offer any pink shoes, but anything else was fine). The shoes were a perfect fit. Hayley loved them (I suspect because, as well as looking like Dorothy shoes, they actually fitted and were comfortable), I loved them, everyone was happy.
So I paid the extortionate amount of money the shop was asking (I don't really mind because they spent so much time with us and the shoes are really good quality) and we left, me thinking that Hayley was happy. Not so. She'd had a little fuss (ha ha, who am I kidding? It was a full blown tantrum) in the shop because she wanted to wear them straight away and I wanted to spray them with shoe protector first, but we'd got past that. We were almost back at the car when she threw herself on the pavement, refusing to move, screaming as though she was being murdered, because she decided then and there she wanted her hair cut. I spent a long time explaining patiently that a) it was late and the hairdressers were closed and b) you have to make an appointment. Once I realised that I was getting nowhere, I simply bundled her into the car. All the way home she screamed about it, adding to her rantng that she hated the shoes and was never ever going to wear them.
Needless to say, there was no shifting her from that. She sobbed in the bath to Anthony that all she wanted was pink shoes (thanks to the woman in the first shop who clearly couldn't follow a simple instruction), that she wants short hair, she hates red shoes and hates long hair. On and on she went until eventually I said I was going to take the shoes back and her feet could freeze for all I care. Mature huh? It continued in this vein for 3 days until it got really chilly one afternoon and she said she needed shoes. Oh dear, her only shoes that fit and don't hurt are sandals. Guess she'd just have to have cold feet then. Imagine how awful winter will be.
Suddenly she wanted the red shoes. Actually she loves the red shoes. I have to really persuade her into wearing her sandals or crocs with summer dresses, though to be honest, it's been pretty chilly and the red shoes are going to be fine. Funnily enough, she does genuinely love the red shoes, and I suspect it's because they're so comfortable on her funny old feet. Oh, and I mentioned a couple of times that she looks just like Dorothy!