Smokey the Bear

When Will was about 18 months old I bought him a Smokey the Bear t-shirt from an upscale children's boutique in Ann Arbor. It cost considerably more than a t-shirt - or any article of clothing for an 18-month-old, for that matter - ever should, but the soft fabric and positive message spoke to me and I made the purchase anyway, vowing to get years of use out of it.

Will wore the t-shirt quite a few times that summer, but outgrew it before he turned two. I packed it away, planning to put it on baby number two when his/her time came. (It's a wonder the t-shirt survived all that 18-month-old drool.)

At age three, Hallie can finally wear the t-shirt that Will wore when he was 18-months-old. And my girly girl, who loves swimsuits and tutus and leotards and ruffles and bows and PINK, can't get enough of Smokey the Bear.

A couple of weekends ago I took Hallie on a date to the Arctic Wolf Ice Arena's spring show, Fairy Tales on Ice. Knowing the stories included in the performance would involve princesses and be-ooo-tee-ful dresses, I - as I RARELY do - told Hallie she could choose whatever she wanted from her closet full of dresses to wear. She was so excited as she ran off to her room to make her choice, and even more excited when she emerged, carrying the Smokey the Bear t-shirt.

"I want to wear Smokey the Bear, Mama", she said proudly.

I asked her twice if she was sure, reminding her that she could wear any of the pink, flowery dresses I usually reserve for dressier occasions, but she stuck to her guns.

I added a jean skirt, leggings, pigtails, and navy blue bows to the outfit, and she was happier than, well, than she usually is when I let her wear the pink, flowery dresses.

Reminding me how old she is,
just like an accountant would.

I just can't figure that girl out.