For the first time ever, I am finding myself having trouble locating suitable clothes for the Toddler. There is the minor issue that she seems to think she has a say in what she wears, which is not entirely correct since she basically gets her choice of two items carefully pre-screened by the Momma Who Hates the Latina Whore. However, the major issue is that I refuse to pay full price for anything. I usually buy the kid's clothes a full season in advance, or more. Right now I'm mostly buying things for next summer because that would be the stuff that is buried on the clearance rack at the Gap Outlet. ($5 sundress for the win!) I was absolutely successful in my quest to purchase quite a few Fall pieces months ago, but that was all before a certain short person decided that her precious little legs were too hawt for pants. She wants to show a little leg, dangnabit, and I had best play along.

The net result of me not being adequately prepared for Fall with an extensive collection of appropriately weighted dresses, and being too cheap to buy the stuff that is in stores now, is that the kid is severely lacking in attire options. I long ago packed up the most summery of her summery dresses because I couldn't continue to have the morning conversation that involved me telling her she was going to be cold, her tell me she didn't want to be cold, me suggesting she wear pants, her suggesting I go to hell, then us repeating the whole freaking conversation all over again. And again. And again.

So it was like Mother Nature herself opened up the skies, pointed the warm sun down on me, and forced the angels to sing the hallelujah chorus when Indian Summer hit last week. It is a BEAUTIFUL thing to have a brief respite from fight, fight, fight, bicker, bicker, bicker. And fight. The kid can wear the few sundresses I kept accessible and we are both so very happy.

The kid was especially happy this morning when I pulled out The Dress. The Dress that she loved more than any other dress this summer. It's The Dress that can stand up all by itself because she has worn it approximately 847 times in the past three months. Without actually getting it washed in between wearings. Because that would require someone prying it off her cold, dead body. And we really didn't want to take things quite that far.

Ahhh, The Dress. I'm glad you were able to get one last hurrah, but now I'll be escorting you to the door. Or the trash. I would actually burn you in effigy, but I'm concerned that a summer's worth of constant wearing has left you a bit more combustible than I can handle.

(Don't even tell me she could keep wearing that awful thing if I just slapped a sweatshirt or sweater over it and invested in some matching leggings because NOOOOOOOOOO! That dress is going to die a painful death. Now.)