That is, until, the stars aligned: another child was added to the mix, M turned (notoriously) two, and winter's chill required extra layers. This simple pleasure has taken a turn for the worst. It has been morphed into a daunting task that leaves me questioning my parenting skills on a good day, and my sanity on a bad day.
When it is time to go on our outings, I would describe the infant as cooperative. The three year old, marginal. The two year old: a reckless whirlwind of negative energy.
This is why we ventured to the bank with M wearing a fluffy lollipop-print bathrobe as a jacket. Warm? Perhaps. Ridiculous? Yes.
And to get coffee wearing her brother's summer sandals, a pair of leggings, and an exuberant cheetah-print dress coat. I deemed my need for coffee much more important than fashion at the time.
It's a shame that all of the cute outfits I have for her are misconstrued so severely that it looks like I don't value basic dressing principles.
Exhibit A: Returning home from a Christmas party. Yes, complete compliance was achieved upon exiting the party, as they were allowed to wear each other's jackets. Harmless, right?
Wrong. It seemed like a good idea at the time, but we failed to imagine what the next outing would be like when M had to wear her own jacket. Sigh.
Summer cannot come soon enough.
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