Squirm has taken to choosing her own clothes. We have a system, she can choose her top and I can choose her pants and whatever goes underneath said top. Needless to say there have been a lot of tutus being worn lately and I’ve begun to ignore the raised eyebrows when we go out. I don’t mind so much except that sometimes I worry about developing a fashion consciousness way too early, maybe this is a bit of an overstatement as what she wears could hardly be described as high fashion.

This is what happens though, she chooses a dress to wear to church. She gets lots of comments, ‘What a pretty girl’, ‘What a beautiful dress’, ‘That looks like a great dancing dress’ and she smiles precociously,  twirls or shows them her shiny black shoes and then comes the next day. The next day she remembers all the fuss over the ‘pretty’ dress and she wants to wear it again and I have to explain that crushed silk just isn’t appropriate for tree climbing and chook chasing. And so she cries and we find another ‘pretty’ top, emphasis on ‘pretty’ and the mother in me who never wanted her to be indoctrinated by Disney princesses cries.

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