Wasted wardrobe

Every day I dress her, but just about every day I find her like this at some point. This girl was born an eon or so too late; she would love nothing more than to spend her days roving and foraging as nature intended.

Her closet overflows with the most beautiful hand-me-downs, but if given the choice (and really, she has opposable thumbs, so she always has the choice) she'll go naked. If forced to wear something, it's usually a variation on this:

 As someone who faked being too short to reach her own clothes until about 3rd grade for lack of interest in picking out her own outfits, I thought I'd have control over my little one's fashion choices for at least a little while longer. Nope. Every day it's the purple skirt, the well-worn tights, and the raggedy polka-dotted fleece (with a hot pink shirt underneath) or it's a tantrum. And I'm learning to pick my battles. Plus, if I can forget for a moment the gorgeous clothes that are going unworn—and ignore every basic tenet of fashion—it's hard to deny the adorability of a little girl in her all-her-own style.