Getting her to brush her hair takes an act of Congress these days. And I can't even begin to tell you how grateful I am for skorts because at least there's the illusion of something cuter than just jeans or leggings every single day.
But the thing is...she's just not a girly girl. She's just not. And she's made no bones about it. Despite all my Manolo-lovin', oversize bag totin', Style magazine-subscribin', all things shiny, glimmery, and gold adorin' ways, she has always, ever since she was little, preferred comfort over (gasp!) fashion. I know, I know, the horror!!!
So, we find ways to compromise. Not because I need her to dress prissy. But because we don't leave the house looking unkempt, not put together, or like we just rolled out of bed. We just don't. So I give in a whole surprisingly helluva lot just so long as she pulls something, anything, together -- and mostly because she's just so damn cute in anything she wears anyway, and, truthfully, watching her hunt and peck for just the right combination of clothes to both appease me and work for her, just makes me smile.
So, I stopped buying her little purses when she was, like, 3. And we only got her ears pierced (with tiny gold hoops) because she specifically asked to do it before she started kindergarten. And we never -- never -- buy her anything pink or flowery if we can avoid it. I gave up on buying all those cute little bangle bracelets and necklaces. She's just too rough and tumble for them. But when she asked for a little locket for her birthday, her Mommy ran right out and scooped one up for her.
And I love this about her. I do. That she's her own kind of girl. That she's not like me. And she's not like Mommy. That's she's bits and pieces of all the women she's ever known, and the rest, well, she's kind of making it up as she goes.
So, you can understand how for someone like me, who loves to dress up even on Sunday afternoons, who's favorite pair of casual shoes are 4-inch versus 6-inch heels, and who readily admits that there are indeed clothes and bags in my closet that still have the tags on them just because I couldn't bear to leave the store without them, it came as an utter and complete shock to me when Saia asked if she could buy a fashion design book she saw at Barnes & Noble last week.
"What for, baby?" I asked, genuinely surprised.
"To draw, Mom," she says.
"Well, I know that, hon, but what I mean is that I've never even seen you draw a t-shirt, let alone a whole outfit. I never would've thought you had any interest in that at all."
"It's just that I can't draw the mannequins," she said. "And this book already has the mannequins in it."
Hmm...okay then. It was on sale. The pages could be repurposed if she decided after the first day that she didn't like it (which is where my money was). So, we got it.
She went and did all this: