Mind Over MaterialFebruary 10, 2010 at 4:51 pm | Posted in Lollipop | 9 Comments
Lollipop likes to dress herself. Perhaps this understates the situation a little.
Lollipop must refuse, on principle, the outfits I select for her. She must choose a dark-horse option. One that she has concocted in her mind, the exact right combination of color and texture and pattern and sequins.
And she never forgets, no matter what, under any circumstances, to accessorize.
Anything less than a 100-percent-certified Lollipop creation will result in a meltdown that would get SuperNanny to my door on the next red-eye. Or law enforcement. So I choose my battles. Wardrobe is not one of them.
Bananas or Boas?
At 7:30 a.m., when we are already late for preschool and I’m stuffing Cheerios in a Ziploc so she can scarf them down in the car because there’s no time to actually sit at the table and, you know, breathe while we eat, let alone get a serving of fruit in there somewhere, and Lollipop comes downstairs wearing her leopard pants, monkey sweatshirt, tutu, and cherry hat … Well, on those mornings, I Let. It. Go.
But I do have a rule. When she wakes up, I tell her the temperature on the outdoor thermometer. This dictates whether much-despised pants, long-sleeved shirts, and jackets must figure into the day’s ensemble. But she does understand it’s the machine making her wear pants, not me. (Sometimes, I am brilliant.)
And she can still accessorize at will. Of course.
Processing … Please Wait
So, Lollipop wakes. I provide her with the magic number. Blink, blink, blink. Churn, churn, churn. She rummages through baskets and drawers and piles. She chooses, changes her mind, chooses again. She puts on a hat, then swaps it out. She pauses. Blink, blink, blink. She smiles. Ding, ding, ding! We have a winner.
Then we rush to the car, buckle up, go back inside for the sippy cup we forgot, buckle up again, point at the cat on top of the neighbor’s car, wonder why the heater isn’t working, spill the Cheerios, hit Giggles with our hat, request NPR be silenced in favor of the “Yellow Car” song, dust the dog hair off the spilled Cheerios and eat them anyway, hit Giggles with our hat, toss our jacket on the floorboard and hope no one will notice, politely ask the red lights to turn green already please, hit Giggles with our hat, inhale the last three Cheerios, and … whew, we are finally at school.
And, man, we look good.