Back-to-School Muumuus

My daughter will wear anything as long as it is a shapeless, short-sleeved pink dress devoid of buttons, zippers, or elastic arm cuffs. With a style range as vast as this, I am free to shop just about anywhere for back-to-school clothes.

Camber and I began our shopping trip at one popular children's clothing store in the mall. There were no shapeless shifts in sight, but fortunately, we did luck out and spot a table containing its fashion equivalent: a pile of fluorescent t-shirts. Each t-shirt had a picture of a large monkey on the front, coupled with an uplifting message that read "I'm a spoiled brat!"
"What do these shirts say?" Camber wanted to know.
They say, "Not for kindergartners" I told her.

Our next stop was Limited Too. We found some very nice jeans in there for $42, but we left them on the rack because they cost $42.

Over the next few hours, we went upstairs to J.C. Penney, downstairs to Macy's, and across the street to Old Navy and Target. At each of these stores, we encountered more friendly monkey shirts, as well as a vast selection of clothing that was perfectly unoffensive and reasonably priced. However, because nothing remotely resembled the highly coveted and rare muumuu, we left all of these stores empty-handed.

Exhausted, frustrated, and more than a little grumpy, we dragged ourselves into Gymboree 30 minutes before closing. I knew that my only chance of success was to show absolutely no interest in both my daughter and the articles of clothing she was looking at, so I stood in the store entrance and did my best to look bored.

This was Camber's cue to leisurely flip through the racks of clothes. I cried little tears of sadness when she skipped over the plaid skirts and matching apple-print sweater vests, but I bit my lip and bore my loss stoically. A few minutes later, the picky dresser approached with an armload of waistless knit dresses that eerily resembled the maternity dress that I was wearing at the moment. Each dress was appropriately marked $3.60. I was about ready to do the happy dance when a store clerk pointed out that the price tags actually read $36.00.

Two hours earlier I would have shuddered at the thought of spending so much for the same article of clothing that you make in a beginning sewing class, but I was so thrilled that none of the dresses had monkeys on them that at that moment I would have paid double or even triple what was on the price tags.

Camber plopped the dresses on the check-out counter and I got out my purse. As I gave the cashier my credit card, the woman could tell that I was in severe pain. Not wanting me to have a heart attack in her store so close to closing time, the cashier gave me a 20% off coupon. This numbed the pain of having to pay $115 for 4 muumuus and matching hair clips.

Over an ice cream cone at the food court a few minutes later, Camber and I assessed our progress.
"Now all I need are some new shoes!" she said excitedly.
"I can't wait for that shopping trip," I responded, trying hard to mean it.