Wherein I admit I trod on toes

My nieces, thing one and thing two, came to visit this past weekend. They're charming girls with lots of quirks and brave for staying out of town in the city in our cramped guest closet bedroom. Generous for blowing bubbles over and over for my little berry, helpful for vacuuming and cleaning the table behind themselves, brave for trying new foods and loving them, inquisitive for visiting our local park and exploring it like it was their own back yard.
I had hopes to surprise them to a fancy day out at the mall followed by a really delicious dinner out and home for movies and ice cream. But I forgot to ask their mom to pack them something dressy, and in my usual way I stepped on kid toes and hurt their feelings trying not to spoil my surprise. They probably would have complied if I'd been forthright but having your Aunt tell you you have to dress up for no apparent reason is not the same kind of fun as getting girlied up the way you feel best and going out for the day.
I know all too well what it feels like to be at someone's house and regret that you're there at all. When I was a bit younger than them my own mom (hi mom!) would leave me at her sister's house for weeks days. Long, long days. And perhaps my sharpest memories are from those days and how much I wished I was somewhere else, not being gouged with sharpened sticks teased by my cousins. So dear thing one and thing two, I hope you forgive me for not being as generous and sweet and loving and kind and openminded as you each are yourselves.