To my mother's dismay, I never liked dolls. My fondest encounter with a doll came when I was 8 or 9 and gave Malibu Barbie a mohawk dyed red with food coloring. And from the time I was old enough to pick my own clothes, I insisted upon long sleeves and pants. My only concession to being a girl was a collection of purses slung around my neck.
Yet, nearly 30 years later, I'm dressing my daughter with such enthusiasm that I (almost) look forward to a super messy poop because it means a new outfit. I study the weather report to determine long-sleeves or short, dress or pants, hat or no hat. Every store is ripe for picking, and I rarely leave one without something new for her to wear. I have a real life doll, and I have to say, she's bringing out the girl in me, too.
I promise to leave the food coloring at the grocery store. ;-)


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