Flashback Post: The Way of Girls

I’m taking a well-earned break from blogging (read: the Hubs won’t let me near the computer on my holiday) so I’m posting an excerpt of an early post. I still cringe at the length of this one (from April 2009).
And to my UK friends reading this: in the US, “pants” + trousers. Please stop your giggling now.

What I love about Boo is the simplicity of getting dressed in the morning. Oh, sure – he does have requests (“No jeans today, Mommy”) – but that is somewhat a given. Boys are easy to dress. Jeans, tees, running pants. Everything is pretty much mix and match, like Garanamals without the cute little tags.  Give him “soft pants” (a.k.a. track pants) and a shirt (if it has a guitar, drums, tractor or construction truck on it, all the better) and he’s golden. I never hear a complaint from him, unless it is getting dressed for church on Sundays.

Pea – well, Pea is a very strong-willed girl. She knows exactly what she wants. (Or, if she doesn’t know what she wants, she’s quite certain of what she doesn’t want.) I’ve given up attempting to control her love of stripes. Don’t get me wrong, if I could get away with horizontal stripes, believe me, I’d wear them, but in the fashion world of a three-year old, stripes go with, er, stripes. Color is irrelevant. Although, if there is any pink or purple in said stripes, it’s even better.

The other thing I’ve given up on is the argument of when the wearing of a tutu or Princess dress is appropriate. Again, outside of church on Sunday, it’s up for grabs. Mind you, I’m the party responsible for her tutu-fetish – I make them, after all. I can’t claim all the responsibility for the princess dresses, as its Mimi who makes the annual trip to Disney World and comes home with the most beautiful – confections of dresses you’ve ever seen in your life. And she has a penchant for finding second-hand dress up clothes at yard sales.

Today, she wanted to her Sleeping Beauty dress to school, but given the quantity of sandbox sand, paint (washable or not) and Play-doh that accompanies her home from preschool, I gently guided her to her Belle dress. Which is Machine Washable, no special care instructions. And very sturdy. My compromise was that we give her “princess hair”. (Which really means, put a french braid in there somewhere.)

After school – and yes, the Belle dress survived even the preschool playground – we ran to Aldi for a few items. It was inevitable – the apple juice is right in front of the toys. And what was there today?

Bargain-priced Barbie princess dolls.

I heard the sharp intake of breath from the basket of the cart, and knew I was doomed. Especially when every Grannie IN THE STORE came by at that EXACT MINUTE and said “Oh, what a gorgeous little princess you are! You NEED one of those little princesses, for such a sweet, well-behaved little girl”. You could see the near LUST in her eyes as she gently stroked the plastic containers holding the sparkly dolls. (Yes, this was the Glitter Princess collection.) I steeled myself. Then, she turned those huge brown eyes at me, and hugged a Cinderella close (yes, an ever-so-helpful granny wheeled her closer to the dollies) and said “Mama, pwease? I yuvs her. She is so be-u-ti-ful.)

Sucker mom caves. Sweet, thoughtful Pea points to a matchbox tractor-trailer in the same display and said “You could get Sam dat!” Parenting fail.

Yes, she went home with the doll.

But if you could have seen how her eyes lit up as she chatted animatedly to the checker about her Cinderella, her Belle dress, how Mama got it for her (usually, anything well-loved is attributed to Mimi, so I melted further), I couldn’t beat myself up too badly.

She loves her new doll.

Of course, as soon as we got home, she decided she needed to wear her Cinderella dress so they could match.

I don’t understand why. After all, like all her other Barbies, the poor girl soon ended up nekked as a jay bird. Maddie explained “we were running together. She runs faster without the dress”.

That is the fastest nekked Cinderella Barbie you will ever see. Honest.

Of course. Don’t we all?

Long live girlie-girls, and all the accompanying accessories and accoutrements.

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