Easter Sunday. Bria got all ready in her beautiful dress and put some shoes on that did not match at all. I realize that they are her favorite shoes, but they just plain didn't go with the dress.
Both Bria and Chloe like to choose how they dress, but Bria is especially concerned with wearing things that she likes. I can't even buy her clothes anymore without her there because she will probably hate them. She has a definite style and will probably grow up to be a fashion designer. Anyway, I usually try to be laid back about stuff like that and let them be fairly independent about what they wear, within reason. As long as they're clean and mostly match, I'm not going to gripe about a hair ribbon being a crazy color, or shoes not quite being the right ones.
Except on Sunday. I'm pretty strict about how they look on Sunday, and we often have battles of epic proportion at our house before church starts over hair bows, tights & shoes that don't match and favorite dresses that are now too small or were never intended for church going in the first place.
When I asked Bria to please change her shoes and put her white sandals on, I was expecting the start of World War 3. I even saw the beginnings of it flash across her face as she thought about stomping her foot and yelling.
But it never happened. Instead, she took a deep breath, looked at Sophie and said,
"It's easier to be a baby. When you're a baby you don't get all cranky about the clothes your mom makes you wear."
With that, she went to her closet and changed her shoes.