« A Delight | Main | I'm a Mess. I Know. »

Don't Call The Fashion Police

I've never met a preschooler who wasn't an expert at driving home a point. I mean, they're SO good at beating a dead horse. Mila is a queen among queens when it comes home to making sure she's said something very thoroughly.

I said I'm a mess. Mila made sure to put on a show for everyone that proves it.

View this post on Instagram

Mila’s fashion game is strong today.

A post shared by Burgh Baby (@burghbaby) on

Those are lime green socks, rainbow Minion leggings (two sizes too small, at that), a navy unicorn dress, a St. Patrick's Day necklace, a pink sweater, and jingly reindeer headband. Mila topped it with rainbow striped tennis shoes, by the way. It was quite the ensemble, and I'm sure there are people who saw it and wondered what was wrong with me that I let her out of the house like that.

TRICK IS ON THEM ALL, THOUGH. Mila may think she's managing to make me look bad, but hahahahaha nope! I cannot be shamed with her outfits because I DON'T DRESS THE KID.

Mila has become nearly completely proficient at getting herself dressed in the morning. I tell her to go get dressed, she returns with clothes on. It is like magic! It's especially fantastic because I have the bar set at "wearing more than underwear." Anything beyond that, as long as it's achieved in less than half an hour, is a victory.

So, go ahead, Mila. Put on your craziest outfits. I'm still going to strut like a peacock because I'm winning the game I chose to play.

PrintView Printer Friendly Version