Just stay there and tell me I look beautiful

Ask and you shall receive.

Just a couple months ago, my daughter fell in love with dress-up. But with an older brother, her princess fantasies could not be realized with only batman, pirate, spiderman, fireman and superman costumes in the dress-up box.

Who knew a plethora of princess paraphernelia was on the way. Through a combination of garage sales, hand-me-downs from friends and merely one weak moment in the Target toy aisle, my daughter now owns 8 fancy princess dresses and three pink sparkly tutus. She is in heaven. The expression on her face after the dress is pulled down over her head is priceless every time. The dress transforms her. And in her toddler mind, she truly is a princess.

A garage sale also scored us a Barbie vanity table and bench with a light-up mirror for only $5 bucks! (I get a strange high at the thought of things being re-usable rather than landing in the landfill.) She has discovered that she can sit in front of the mirror and play out pretend stories (outloud - they are hilarious) for hours (well, actually like 30 minutes, but for uninterrupted toddler play that lets mommy get some work done, it feels like hours).

So here we are now with all these very frilly, very lacey, very poofy dresses and really no where to put them. Hung up, they take up half her closet and she can't reach them. In a box, they look careless and wrinkled. Alas, the closet-extender rods were found. I placed this gadget in her closet so the dress-up dresses could hang on a low rod that she could reach.

Being the organized girly-girl she is, A was very excited by the prospect of her most precious items being within reach. She helped pick up hangers for them and put them on the rod. Then stood back, looked at the dresses, tilted her head to the side and said "Hmmmm..." It was time to decide which one to wear to the ball.

She then launched into a pretending episode in which she was the mommy and I was the daughter. "Now, you put the dresses here. And you CAN'T wear those shoes outside, ok??" she demanded of me, echoing the jist of words I said earlier in the day as she wanted to wear her fancy pink polk-dotted patenleather shoes from grandma to play at the babysitter's this morning.

Still deciding which one to try on first, this very nearly 3-year-old walked into the closet and closed herself in to be alone with the dresses. I should note, it is not a walk-in closet. Maybe this is the way to choose an outfit; just pick one in the dark.

I was in the midst of cleaning the rest of her room and organizing the toys as she did this.
"A, don't lock yourself in the closet, honey, just bring the dress out here and I'll help you get it on," I say.

Still in her mommy-dictator-mode, A responded with "now you just stay there and tell me I look bootiful."

Those are some instructions I can live with.

In that simple, silly phrase, I see the basic core of what a daughter needs from her mom: to stick close-by (if not in sight) and provide unconditional support and love. Even when she just wants to sit by herself in the closet.