I had a surreal father experience this morning... My little camel (my eldest who never seems to need to pee) had yet "to go" by around 10:45 am. Still in her pj's, I thought that getting her dressed would be an easy excuse to take a little detour to the bathroom. And the idea as a success--as she's into wearing dresses.

So in her excitement, I let her pick her dress--and she did. We put it on, and I thought all was well. She then looked at me, looked at her dress, back and forth, and began to cry. (?)

Baby, baby, baby... what's wrong? No Dress! This shirt! No sweatie, that's a dress. That's your blue dress; Ella looks very beautiful in her blue dress. No blue dress! Blue shirt! *I then looked at my shirt. A long-sleaved XXL-sized around-the-house-comfort shirt. The length of our two garments 'hit' at about the same spot of our thighs* No baby--daddy's wearing a shirt. See? Let daddy tuck in his shirt. Daddy has a shirt on; Ella has a dress on. Ella looks beautiful in her dress... Let's go look in the mirror and see how pretty Ella looks...

It's as if she re-organized or redefined her semantic concept of a dress. Our two garments are similar in shape. Daddy's don't wear dresses; ipso-facto, I am not wearing a dress. I am wearing a shirt. But I want to be wearing a dress, so that makes me sad.

Never, ever, in my life, would I have dreamt that I would have to deal with such a situation. (I also called Court to make a big deal of her beautiful dress when she got home...)