Who makes up these stupid clothing sizes for kids. Where do they get that all kids 6mo. old have a certain shoe or sock size? Could you just all put a number on clothes, not a size you think my child "should be" at that age. I am damned if I do and damned if I don't when it comes to buying clothes for my little herd.
I decide to slip away last weekend and go shopping by myself, yeah, you heard right, by myself! And it wasn't even my birthday or mother's day. Crazy, huh? So who do I shop for, the kids of course, I couldn't go that far into selfishness to actually shop for myself. (Well, I probably could, and enjoy it very much, but on this particular day, I did not.) And it's the beginning of the season so you know they have outgrown everything and you have no idea what size the actually are. So I guess, My daughter is 5 years old and the clothes say 5, it should work, right? . WRONG. I bring them home & have miss priss try them on. First pair of shorts: Too big, in fact, so big they fall off, literally. Second, a skirt: Um can we say hoochie mama! No thank you, I am even going to go there. Third pair of shorts: Ghetto booty, which she doesn't even have without those shorts on, I swear they had butt implants stuck in them. So I did the only thing I could do. I pack the clothes back up and take the kids to the mall with me. Yeah, you heard that right too, we all went to the mall to try on clothes. I personally, would rather have been struck by lightning, but it was a clear and sunny day, so off we went.
Have you ever tried to go shopping with godzilla? My son's arms turn into Stretch Armstrong when we get into a clothing store. He can have a shelf of clothes off and onto the floor before I can say Boo. And the sales people smile that,"Lady, hurry up and get your shit done so you can get out of my store," smile on their faces. That I politely return with my, "Shut the hell up I am trying here,it's either this or they go naked," smile on my face. So with Stretch in the stroller and Princess, I have to touch everything,can we get something to eat, are we done yet, walking beside me, off we go. Where I spend the day picking up a trail of cherrios a mile long and begging my daughter to just try on one more outfit.(Knowing full well it's actually like 6 more outfits) But she does it, with the promise of Dipping Dots before we leave. And after a gazillion stores, we finally find clothes that work. Turns out that she wasn't a 5 at all. She is a 4 shorts and a 6 top. Go figure. I can't wait to try to figure out bra sizes with her in another 8 years. I think I will just go drunk next time and see how that works out.
Now nothing would make me feel better than to hear someone else's horror stories of shopping with little darlings, so fess up.
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