Alexis and I have had many battles as of late over her daily choice of attire. When the battles first started, I had thought about just letting it go. There are, after all, much more critical issues for us to fight over. (Like how she WILL quit wasting Snickers bars by putting them in her mouth then saying "I don't like it" and throwing away a perfectly edible piece of chocolate bliss.) However, after further pondering, I figured I'm bigger, I'm the boss, and really I plan to have a say in what she wears for the next 16 years or so.

With images of slutty Halloween costumes and super-short mini skirts in mind, I went to war.

I've mentioned that Alexis flat-out refuses to wear anything other than sleeveless sundresses. That was really a very predictable response that she developed after way too many people told her she looked beautiful/cute/pretty/whatever in the sundress of the day all through the summer. So, I implored everybody to start working on reversing that effect over the past few weeks. In order to get people to compliment her shirts and pants, though, I had to get her IN them.

That's been fun.

Like, a going to the dentist for a root canal variety of fun.

Yet, I've persevered. The weather hasn't been all that warm and cozy, so really I'm doing the kid a favor when I force her to don long sleeves and pants. If you asked her about it, though, I'm sure that she would tell you I'm the most horrible mother of all time.

Whatever.

I made it through three days last week. There were three good-sized battles, lots of tears, many screams and shrieks, and a generally unhappy Toddler. She was a warm toddler, though. A warm toddler who was repeatedly complimented on her super-cute owl t-shirt, or whimsical Snow White sweater, or adorable little jeans.

Then came Saturday. A warm-ish Saturday at that. Alexis and I were to have a girls' day out shopping, and I really didn't care what she wore. So, I sent her off to her closet to pick something. Anything.

She came back with a simple little Hello Kitty t-shirt. Then she said, "Momma, where's my pants?"

Or, at least I think that's what she said. I can't be entirely sure since I passed out cold from the shock of it all.

(You would think I would have a photo of this monumental occasion where the Toddler willingly wore pants and a shirt. You would be wrong.)