Let's just begin today's random thought process with something that I've been struggling with of late. I am truly enamored with two hilariously wonderful bloggers, Melanie and Sophie, and reading their shenanigans makes me want a southern accent. Now you know. This is how I hear my own writing as I type. I do believe it makes me sound funnier, and I've recently had a veritable revelation about my relationship with biscuits after buying a quart of buttermilk "just because." So that goes together, surely.
The Younger has popped out of her room about six times now in the space of the last fifteen minutes in order to make a neat stack of children's library books that I might want to read while she's napping. Now that's considerate.
And while we're on the topic of strange things happening, I just took a big old drink of my Highland Grog (how's that a name for some dark and stormy brew?) only to find a good amount of the grounds in that swallow. When my barista commented that I got the dregs, she was being literal, I believe. Aren't you glad you know that about my morning?
Well anyway, here's the gist of things here: The seasons, they are changing. And this means every day contains any amount of frustration, sobbing, pouting, and bribery. (Insert jokes here about how any or all of those are from me.) How does one dress a child who does not appreciate clothing touching her sweet, sweet skin? The bigger problem herein is how does one buy clothing for a child who doesn't want to wear any of it?
Explaining girls' clothing options to a burgeoning six-year old is a fruitless endeavor.
On Sunday, she wore her current favorite dress to church, and since it was warm enough, no leggings (which are apparently the bane of her existence, to which I think "Your life is so rough, you skinny thing, you"). The boy was feeling run down and needed some time, so he didn't go (i.e. ditched us at the last moment), and I will blame my oversight on this unexpected twist in the morning. I had to spend a good amount of my allotted worship time in pull-down-your-dress-because-now-everyone-knows-that-you're-wearing-blue-undies mode. Because we may be almost six, but we still roll around in a church pew as if the Spirit has set us afire. Amen.
Now, we're in the throes of a truly and gorgeously warm Spring week, and my child is still pulling on the same soft-from-so-many-washings jeans, t-shirt and sweatshirt. We have options. There are bermuda shorts that are darling and capris that are snazzy. There are plaid shorts that are slip-on approved and a blue-striped skirt that the Elder "loved" when I first showed it to her. None of these have ever seen the light of day save for when I shift things around a couple of times a year.
The Elder has certain requirements in her clothing options.
1. Things must be colorful.
2. Coordination does not have to happen. (I took her out in public over the weekend in a bright blue t-shirt, pink play shorts, gray socks with purple hearts, and sparkly church shoes.)
3. Sandals are the preferred footwear, year-round.
4. Sneakers are acceptable only when there is a reason for them, e.g. snow on the ground or needing to chase friends at recess.
5. Black, brown/tan, dark green, gray, and some blues are not acceptable color choices for pants.
6. Clothing should never restrict movement.
7. Sparkles are great.
8. Pajamas are best.
9. Soft is ideal.
10. Seams are terrible.
Based on this list, certain things may stand out. Namely, pants are always an issue. Always. She falls in and out of love with any given pair of pants usually depending on whether they have been washed and are therefore "tooooo tiiiiight." And once those pants are too tight, no force of nature or act of any divine being can change her mind.
You know what else is tight? Skinny jeans/pants. And, do you also know what else is almost exclusively sold for girls? Skinny jeans/pants. Even better, do you know what colors non-skinny jeans/pants come in? I need only invite you to refer to #5 on the list.
I have given up on the notion that cute sweaters are her thing, though I'm still holding out hope for #2. In the meantime, I'm plotting ways to convince a child that capri pants are not of the Devil.