A few months ago, my daughter and I were picking out her outfit for school. She said she wanted to wear something nice because it was a special day. I brought out a few dresses that I knew she loved to wear.
The green one with the pink flowers looks great with her matching bow.
The brown one with multi-colored polka dots is funky and fun.
The black and white one with the big white dots on the bottom is her fave.
The classic white one with embellished pink flowers at the bottom is so sweet.
I turn to her expecting her to pick one and she says, “Ummm, no dress. How about some capris?” That’s when I came to a sad realization. My heart sunk as I, slowly, sat on her bed. My eyebrows grew puzzled, then I put my arm around her, and immediately had a flashback of my sweet girl, years ago, in her Easter Dress.
My daughter just finished Kindergarten and has six wise years behind her. She loves the color pink. She watches me put on my make-up. She loves to shop. She begs me to take her for pedicures. She is the epitome of a girl. Always has been.
Composing myself, I asked, “Honey. What’s going on? You love wearing dresses.” I don’t think I was quite prepared to hear her answer. In fact, I was convinced she might just be tired of the dresses in her closet and would then fall to her knees and beg me to take her to buy new ones. I could have dealt with that.
She tells me, “Mom, I don’t like wearing dresses anymore.” No. That answer didn’t satisfy my Momma heart. No. There had to be an explanation on why. The questioning and interrogating paid off, on my part, because she finally spilled the beans. “Well, people can see my panties under my dress at recess. I know you make me wear shorts underneath, but they still think their my panties and I just don’t like dresses anymore Mom.”
It all made sense now. The chanting of little boy voices fill my head… I see London. I see France. I see Abby’s underpants! Was that how it all went down? Did the boys in her class make fun of her? I would never know because it took a whole 3 minutes for her to snap me out of my overreacting thoughts. My sweet girl put her arm around me, patted my back, lifted my chin towards her and said, “Mom, don’t worry. I look good in just about everything!”
She was right.
I giggled as I walked back to her closet to put the dresses, I had picked out, away. I wasn’t worried about how she looked, but more sad that a phase of her childhood passed me by. Nobody told me it would be like this. Nobody told me my daughter would “outgrow” dresses. Nobody told me I’d be this sad. Nobody told me it would be THIS heartbreaking raising a daughter.
Did your daughter go through this? Do you remember, vividly, when she stopped wearing dresses?
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