Little Bear is a two-year-old of definite opinions. See that expression? She has decided that she doesn't like having her picture taken. Nor does she like to wear pants.
One fine spring morning not so long ago, I pulled out a pair of pink pants from the Pants Party Days that are now about an inch to short (although I ignore that and pretend that they're toddler capris) and proceeded to go about getting Little Bear into them. She promptly burst into mad tears and wailed, "ME NO LIKE!" As if I were trying to squeeze her into a mohair bodysuit, not a pair of soft, cotton pants that she's worn a bazillion times before.
"What would you like to wear?" I asked.
"Pretty dress," she sobbed and covered her face with her hands.
I trudged back to the closet, rolling my eyes where she couldn't see them and pulled out a dress. "This one?" I asked.
"No. Red one," she said between the cracks in her fingers.
My loud sigh coincided with her dramatic sniffle, but I produced the desired togs and we went on with our day. I thought the incident was a fluke, but I fear it's now a full-blown stage. And I've been so busy with writing and preparing my submission for Skull Appreciation Day (more about that in the next day or so) that sewing for Little Bear has fallen by the wayside. For the time being we rotate the same dresses (sometimes twice depending on how bad the blueberry stains show up) every week. This morning I saw a spot of dried porridge on the dress of the day but just turned it to the back. She'll never know the jumper's on backwards.
Check out one of Little Bear's favorite dresses:
My mom made this for me back in the day, and it fits Little Bear perfectly. She wore it to church on Sunday even though she dripped maple syrup on the skirt. (By the way, an extra thanks to the man behind us who permitted Little Bear to take his hymnal for her horses to read.)
I think the embroidered flowers are my favorite part:
And lest you think Little Bear changed her mind about the photo shoot…
P.S. She practices that face in the bathroom mirror. (I wish I were kidding.)