Wednesday, March 31, 2010
I have been in a very lucky situation - the seven year old doesn't care what she wears.
I know that the fashion war is fought daily in bedrooms all over the world - so I know how lucky I am.
Every night I lay out clothes for the next day on a chair in the seven year olds room.
Every morning she gets up and puts them on.
I use common sense. I take her shopping with me - she picks the clothes she likes.
Also luckily for me, with the exception of the infamous swimsuit debate, she happily accepts my vetoes on clothes I think are inappropriate for her.
I pay attention to her current favorites and put them in heavy rotation.
The rotation includes dresses, skirts, leggings and trousers.
When she does ask to swap an item I very casually agree.
I know it will end. I feel the countdown has begun. It all started at school.
I noticed that one of her little friends had obviously picked out her own clothes one day.
She is usually color co-ordinated and stylish - this outfit was pure seven year old fantasy.
The top and leggings were of different colors and patterns and over the leggings were a pair of bold stripey shorts.
She looked super cute and you could tell she felt great in her self-chosen outfit - she had a swagger in her step.
I knew it would not go unnoticed.
The seven year old is a big fan of swagger.
That night I layed out her clothes as usual.
She has been wanting to go to sleep with the light on, so I go up after about an hour and switch it off.
As I entered the room, I noticed a different set of clothes on the chair.
They were a combination of inappropriate, (for the weather) too small and hideously mismatched.
Hmmm. What should I do?
I settled on a combination of some items from her choice but added clothes that fit and reduced the color clash.
I am greeted first thing with:
"Mom! Why did you change my clothes?"
"Erm - well it's raining sweetie so I just added some warmer things..."
I wait with baited breath.
"OK." she says.
I remember very clearly a day when I, for the first time, went to my room and changed my clothes.
I got a notion to wear a purple pant suit (it was the 70's) that my Nana had knitted for me. That's right I said knitted.
It was far too small but I loved it - so on it went.
I can still see my Mums face when she found me out playing with the neighborhood kids.
She made me change. I'm still bitter.
I am fully aware that the day will come when she comes downstairs looking like a day glo rainbow.
As long as she's covered adequately and warm enough - I will say nothing.
I will take one for the team and hope that it's a (very short) phase.