In the Dailies

A few weeks ago Ellie and I attended a bridal shower. There my daughter encountered something from which I have tried to shield her for … well, forever. I had hoped to continue avoiding such influences for the next five years or so. By the time she’s ten, I’m guessing the result of such exposure would be quite different. But she’s not ten. She’s five and was absolutely enthralled by what we witnessed: a mother and daughter wearing matching dresses.

Our cousin Katie looked gorgeous, as always; this time wearing a red and white polka dotted sundress. It was 50s-inspired and beautiful. Her daughter, Lily, who is seven months old, wore an identical sundress. Ellie fell in love with the idea. While she loudly proclaimed that we need to do that, too, my mother-in-law’s eyes sparkled with hope (likely picturing the two of us in matching sailor dresses; she probably already has the patterns, just waiting for such an opportunity). I smiled through clenched teeth. “Would you like that? We’ll see, okay, honey?”

She hasn’t stopped talking about it since. She’s even planned for have her dolls and her brother dressed the same. I have successfully convinced her that Daddy will never partake in her scheming. (You’re welcome, Rick.) When we shopped for dresses for the wedding, she insisted that we match. Well, I found my dress first. They don’t make black lace dresses for preschoolers. Even if they did, I wouldn’t buy one for her. This truth devastated my daughter. After two days, several tears and many frustrating hours throughout at least twelve stores, I decided to shop without her. I bought her dress while she was sleeping, but that still left shoes. My girl LOVES shoes. I conceded to wear matching shoes.

This is what we found.

In the store, these looked the same: black satin, low-heels and ankle straps. Not until we got home did I realize they don’t really match at all. Ellie’s are not black, they’re brown. In the store I was convinced, as was Ellie, that they were black. Why did they look so different at home?

But that wasn’t the only mistake. I also purchase these shoes believing them to be navy.

They’re black.

And then I bought these believing them to be cute.

Okay, they are kinda cute. The little tails or stingers or whatever they are — the green things on the heels light up when Ellie runs, but best of all: I’m told these suckers prevent foot odor. (I may buy a pair for everyone in our family. Well, except me because my feet never stink. They don’t sweat. Actually, did you know that sweat doesn’t makes feet stink? The bacteria that feeds off the foot sweat create the odor. Kinda gross.)

As I vocalized my confusion over the shoes, what I thought I was buying and what I actually bought, Ellie simply patted my arm. “It was a dark store, Mom.”