What Not to Wear

I’ve been forcing Abbie to pick out her clothes before breakfast for a couple weeks now. To recap, the first thing I tell Abbie in the morning is to pick out her clothes. Sometimes I slip a pleasantry like “good morning,” or “I love you,” before the clothing command, but I make sure to work the important stuff into the conversation early. I then dress the boys while Abbie stays in her room surrounded by clothes. When I walk by her room and see her sitting on the floor playing with toys while still in her pajamas, I remind her to pick out her clothes. I issue several more reminders until, a split-second after I snap the boys’ trays onto their chairs for breakfast, Abbie runs into the dining room with a shirt in hand.

I’ve learned a few things about her taste in these mornings. I’ve learned that her favorite shirt is a little disturbing. It’s a Halloween shirt, black with pink trim, featuring a smiling skull and crossbones printed across the front with doe eyes and a pretty pink bow. It’s a cute look in October when compared to the grotesques parading across the media and the shirts of others. It’s a creepy, toddler Goth look in the middle of summer. I usually let her wear whatever she picks out, but I try to discourage this shirt on days when we have to go out in public.

I’ve learned that Abbie isn’t great at making decisions. Often she’ll run up to me with several shirts in hand, one white, one black (usually the aforementioned shirt), and one colored shirt. I lay them in front of her, and ask her to pick one. She points to each one, telling me its color. At least she’s learning colors if not decisiveness.

I’ve learned that Abbie has good style. When she brings me a shirt and pants, they usually match.* She might bring a light green shirt with light green shorts, which I think looks spiffy. Or she might bring a dark shirt with khaki shorts, which shows that she’s absorbed my affinity for contrasting colors.

I’ve learned that she has no sense of weather. We’re still in summer, and while those residing in our southern, swampier states like Louisiana might laugh at Iowa summers, it’s still pretty hot. Abbie thinks nothing of picking out a long-sleeved shirt to wear on these roasting days. As long as it’s not too heavy or adorned with winter paraphernalia, I let her wear it. She’ll also bring me pants to wear instead of something shorter. She brought me pink sweatpants to wear on a couple of 90-degree days. I shrugged and steered her toward a sleeveless top.

Today, the temperature was in the 90’s, and she brought me a pair of khaki pants to wear to preschool. Her school is air-conditioned, and she brought a blue, sleeveless top to wear with it, so I let her wear her choice. Hopefully none of the teachers wondered why I dressed her so warmly on a sweltering day. At least she didn’t try to match the pants with her Goth shirt.

* Remember that I’m the one defining what matches, and I’ve been known to send her into public in comically mismatched outfits. I’ve happily dressed children in matching colors, only to be informed by mommy that a shirt with vertical stripes and shorts with horizontal stripes don’t work. Says her.