size matters

Caroline has been pretty true to size throughout her life. When she was six months old, the tags on her clothes were "6-12 months" and now that she is five years old, she is of course sporting size five dresses and jeans. She recently became aware of the size. I was in the middle of the dreaded seasonal switchover and her clothes were so jammed into her dresser we could barely close the drawers. Short sleeved tees pushed up against corduroy pants thanks to the unseasonablly warm temps in April, followed by 50 degree days in May. You go ahead and tell Caroline she can choose any dress she wants one day and then talk her into a sweater and wool socks the next. It wasn't pretty. I have to pat myself on the back that I seem to finally have a grip on how to handle the seasonal switch out. I cull through and keep a few wintery items and lots of layering pieces in the drawers and relegate anything too worn or ure to be too small to the donate or hand me down box. I place anything that has a prayer to still fit in the fall in the "saving it for next season box." For the first time, I had help with my task, and that is when she realized she is a size five. Anything that read "four" we put aside for hand me downs. Then the real fun began when we started hanging the cute dresses in the closet and emptying nantucket red skinny jeans and Bermudas into her drawer. Her wardrobe has a preppy nautical feel this season. As I typed this I realized that I just got a bunch of preppy nautical update for myself as well. Clearly, I was coveting my five year old's closet. All was well until one day Caroline refused to put on her pajamas. I couldn't figure out why. "they say four and I not four! I'm five!!!" I had a good laugh about that. She carefully checks the tags on anything she suspects might not be a size five. She cannot understand how she wears a size 12 shoe or how I wear my size since I'm 34. It has also come up when we encounter situations she previously had difficulty managing, like leaving the playground. I'll remind her that when it is time to go, we leave without antics or whining or sassing. "mommy, I was four then, I'm five now." I would hope I could use this to my advantage a la, "you are five now, not four," but it never seems to work that way.


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