Fancy Pants

McHotty and I are living with a three-foot diva. Despite the fact that I wear a dress about 3 times a month, Cakes has developed a strong preference for feminine clothing. She is refusing to wear the cool black jerseys I find at H&M in favour of frilly pink frocks.

Last week a package arrived from her grandmother, who had a recently returned from a trip to Boston with outlet mall stops on the way home. She tore into it to find two luscious velvet dresses for Christmas. Trembling with excitement, she immediately donned both dresses, ran to the full-length mirror, and pirouetted, exclaiming “I’m so fancy, I’m SO FANCY!”

She would wear a dress every day if we let her. I usually try to reason with her, but McHotty doesn’t have the strength. The other day he did daycare drop-off, and I did pick-up. I was mortified to find her in a red satin top, a purple skirt, multi-colored striped tights and about 6 blingy barrettes.

We have her out-of-season sandals on a high shelf in her room. Every now and then she makes me get them down so she can try them on and prance around the room. I won’t even tell you how excited she gets when I turn her loose in my closet.

While her fashion sense is mildly embarrassing, what really concerns me is how she talks about looking pretty. It bothers me that pretty is even remotely on her radar at age 3-and-a-half. I wonder where it comes from, then I recall myself coming the stairs, dressed to go out, asking McHotty how I look. I picture my mother coaxing Cakes to let her style her hair, then exclaiming how much nicer it looks. I think about the fuss we make of her when she’s all dressed up pretty, and it’s no wonder it’s on her mind.

How do we teach our girls that pretty doesn’t matter?