Elmo pyjamasAs Lisa tells the story, she was wandering through the men’s department at Target, wondering what the kids could get me for Christmas, when Girl suddenly started shouting, “Elmo!  Dad, Elmo!  Elmo, Dad!”

She’d spotted a set of Elmo pyjamas (she’s obsessed with Elmo despite never having seen an episode of Sesame Street) and had been able to tell that they were sized for me, and not for, say, Lisa.  So that became my Christmas present from Girl.

I often wear sweatpants at home, so I figured the pants could just be another pair of sweatpants to add to my rotation.  The shirt is essentially just a t-shirt, so I decided it would be the Elmo t-shirt that I, as a funky, ironic guy and a cool dad, happen to own and occasionally wear.

Boxing Day night, after Boy and I had got home from seeing Tintin, I went into the bedroom and changed into the Elmo pants, then headed out into the living room to see if Girl noticed.  She did–her face split into a huge grin.  And then it started.

“Elmo!  Dad, Elmo shirt!  Elmo t-shirt, peas!  Elmo shirt!”

“Do I … have to wear the shirt as well?”  I was kind of surprised she even remembered that there was a shirt to go with them.

“Yes peas!  Elmo t-shirt, Dad!”

So I went into the bedroom and got the t-shirt and put it on over the t-shirt I was already wearing.  Half an hour or so later, I happened to be in the bedroom again, and I took the Elmo shirt off.  I headed back out to the living room and sat down at my computer.  Girl gave no reaction, and I figured she hadn’t noticed.

A few moments later, though, she was at my side, and I assumed she wanted to sit in my lap.  Without really looking away from the computer screen, I reached out to pick her up.  But instead, she pressed a bundle of fabric into my hands.

The Elmo shirt.  Which she’d gone into the master bedroom to retrieve.

“Here go!  You’re problem!”  (That’s her mishmash of you’re welcome and no problem.)

So I wore the shirt until she went to bed that night, because really, that was clearly the most painless option for everyone.

So glad I have a member of today’s youth monitoring my look.  Now I’m dreading when she’s thirteen and decides to give her mother and me makeovers.


4 Responses to Fashionista

  • Marta says:

    A. and I really need to spend some quality time together one of these days – she sounds so cute and precocious! (And since she shares my childhood nickname, she has that going for her as well.) For what it's worth, I don't think childhood fashion sense is the same thing as teen fashion sense. Here's hoping, anyway!

  • Ian Racey says:

    I don't know–I suspect she's a fashion prodigy.

    I have been really surprised at what a girl she is, because that's not behaviour she's picking up from either of her parents. She's obsessed with clothes, cell phones and ponies. And the one colour she's learnt is "Pink! Look, pink!"

  • kb says:

    Julie too. This story cracks me up. Especially "you're problem," which, however unintentional, is very appropriate here.

  • Ian Racey says:

    Subsequent story: the other day I was dressing her, and put a top on her, then reached into her drawer, took out a pair of jeans and held them out, waiting for her to lie down so I could slide them on. She ignored me, reached past me into the drawer, and pulled out a pair of pants that matched a top, then handed them to me. "Here go!"

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