I have a love/hate relationship with clothes shopping. I love clothes, but I hate the amount of time it takes to find something to fit my, shall we say . . . curvy? body. I’ve never been able to walk into a store, find a shirt in my size and walk out.
There’s usually a fair amount of work involved. Elizabeth, at three, is lucky that the only work involved for her is if her size is in stock. Of course, that’s not to say clothes shopping with her is easy.
First of all, let me explain that Elizabeth loves clothes. I have no idea where she got her adoration of all things organza and tulle but I know it’s not a learned behaviour. When she was fifteen months old, she threw her first tantrum – over the fact that I put sneakers on her rather than her beloved silver ballet slippers.
When we walked into Target to buy an Easter dress “real quick” I knew there would be some time involved. I was not, however, expecting to spend a half hour while she held up twenty different dresses, checking each for swishability and sparkle.
Her brother, in the meantime, sat on the floor, leaned against a display and moaned, “Are we done yet?”
She finally settled on a teal tulle concoction that she swears will be her “summer party dress”. I believe her. Last year’s Potty Training Three Weeks Dry present was a pink dress of similar proportions that she wore to every occasion she deemed special. Like going to the mailbox.
And for the record, Joseph got an Easter outfit too. It took him twenty seconds to grab off the rack and be on his way.