Kaylee doesn't wear pants.
It's not that she doesn't like them – she hates them. She's constantly complaining about how uncomfortable they are and how they hurt her belly.
Being good parents, we chalk it up to her just wanting to only wear her dresses and ignore her.
Ow. My belly hurts.
It does not.
Yes it does. Look!
Now imagine our surprise when we find, not ten minutes after having her put the pants on, an angry red line cutting across her mid-section.
The pants! They're too small! That's the problem!
Now, nothing excites me more than hanging out in the clothing section of our local department store and watching my wife pick up every pair of pants.
Every. Pair. Of. Pants.
Seriously, I don't think she leaves a stone unturned. If there is a 5T pair of pants to find, she's going to have them in her hands. And half of them aren't good enough. I personally don't see much difference between this one or that one – but then that's probably why she's the one doing the looking.
So I do what every other dad does. I wander.
I usually find myself drifting over to the boys' clothing section. Let's face it – 6-year-old boys and I are practically the same demographic when it comes to our interests. Monsters. Legos. Super heroes …
So it was no surprise when I grabbed a Star Wars shirt off the rack and showed it to my daughter. And since she's my daughter, she was actually interested in it.
It was a nice shirt. One of those vintage-looking numbers with a long-sleeved tee sewn inside. On the front there was a grid of various characters from the original trilogy.
Being the good dad that I am, I began to quiz her on the various droids, bounty hunters and scruffy-looking nerd-herders.
She did pretty well …
Princess Leia. (Of course she knows the princess.)
IT'S A TRAP!*
Someday, this girl is going to be so embarrassed to admit the things she knows. But right now, I'm so proud of my little geek.
* Basically, the point of this whole post was to get to this punch line. If you don't understand this, or didn't find it humorous, I can't help you. In fact, you are probably my father.**
*** C'mon. Even my Dad has to get that reference.