I remember having a conversation with my husband, shortly after Peanut was born. We discussed – and came to a mutual agreement – that we would never, NEVER, dress any of our children in paraphernalia with cartoon characters (including, but not limited to t-shirts, shorts, socks and shoes). I think this may have been right around the time that we decided we’d avoid Disney World at all costs; instead we’d take cultural trips with our young kids (like to Europe).
Yes. We were delusional. Chalk it up to being pre-parents.
Still. I have a closet full of scratchy princess dresses, but I’ve (mostly) managed to avoid the dreaded cartoon characters. In a moment of temporary insanity my husband picked up a Dora top for Peanut in Las Vegas; she wore it threadbare. That’s been gone for a while, though. Thankfully.
Last week we were visiting my parents. My mom took Peanut on a little field trip to Target (suburban! megastore!) They returned with several bags filled with treasures (junk), including a grass (plastic) hula skirt/lei, and hello kitty dinner set. The last item selected by Peanut was an Ariel swimsuit, blue and green. Lamé. She held it up against her torso, grinning. “It fits!!” she shrieked, having never tried the suit on (translation: it MUST fit). She wriggled into that suit with all her might, and collapsed into a tupperware bin of water, “a pool!” (identified as such by Peanut herself). The suit has since accompanied us on several water-based outings.
I’ve turned a corner. Or, I suppose, she’s turned a corner.