Nightmare on Toddler Fashion Street

Girls are inherently born with a sense for fashion (most girls, anyway). By the time they reach their teen years, it’s about putting together an ensemble, hair and make-up just so. You can’t pick out their clothes anymore, much less buying without their thumbs-up, they have to choose for themselves, to be in-style or “what’s cool” (because, parents are, like, so totally not cool).

But in the early years - toddler, to be exact - at the age where you want to dress them like little dolls, do their hair in pigtails and sweet barrettes, is when they begin to become more independent in wanting to try dressing themselves.

And by dressing themselves, I mean, picking out their own outfits to wear.

Toddlerdom is when they suddenly like to dress-up, have purses, pretend jewelry, fake make-up, playing and dressing their dollies and clickety-cloppity plastic sparkle, light-up heels with princess dresses and tea time. But why, why is it when it comes to their incessant whining to take over the reigns and dress themselves, why can’t they at least try to put something together that matches?

We’re talking Halloween-esque outfits of the rejected variety, here.

Green-striped shirts with pink pants. Sweaters with shorts. Sneakers with a foofie “Sunday Best” dress. Half-pajamas, half-clothes. Don’t forget the hair accessories that makes them look like aliens or a Cyndi Lauper/Madonna time-warp to the eighties.

Ick.

Where’s the feminine fashion gene at this age? is it lying dormant somewhere, perhaps whackadoodle because it hasn’t germinated enough? Take a toddler’s attitude and strong-willed bullheadedness, couple it with the female genitalia and hormones, pairing it with independence and finally, a smear of the need to be right and you have a recipe for disastrous fashion.

And without fail, this happens every.single.time. you have to leave the house to be somewhere. You will, without a doubt, have them fully dressed in a proper way, but no matter what, they will somehow, super-secretly, James Bond-esque, stealthily swap out your normal outfit for their punk-rocker-meets-homeless-man outfit they’ve been hiding between the cushions of your couch. An outfit they are able to slap on themselves in record time, mind you, just as you’re about to walk out the door.

Having girls is exhausting. And to think, this is only the beginning. {Hold me!}