Stylist to the mama...

Lola and I ditched the boys this weekend and hit the mall.
It was like, totally rad.

The girl quickly assumed the role of fashion consultant.
She did not hesitate to tell me the skirt I tried on was "yucky" and refused to let me bring anything not pink into the dressing room.
Nothing like hearing a tiny voice say, "Mama you look beeeeeyyyooooouuuutiful!" to boost a girl's confidence.
She insisted on picking out at least four outfits for James at each store we visited (all pink, all frilly).
She can't have her brother looking like a hooligan, you know?

She was also very proactive at loading my purse with essential items.
Which was great, except shoplifting is frowned upon.
I had to double check every pocket and both sets of hands as we left each store.

She tried on four different pink lotions at Bath & Body before emptying the contents of a tester lipgloss all over her face.
She couldn't wait to show me her handy work, and it took all the strength I possessed not to pick up her and smooch all that lipgloss right off those scrumptious cheeks.

We ended our shopping spree (is it a shopping spree if you only spend fourteen bucks?) with lunch at ChickFilA in the food court.
She spilled her sparkle juice (Ivin-ese for Sprite) three times and took no less than 40 minutes to eat her ice cream with sprinkles, but I can honestly say I enjoyed every second of my afternoon out with Lola.

I am so grateful to have a daughter.

Because Reece would rather be baked alive in a giant fruit cake than hang out at the mall for three hours.