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When my eldest child was a toddler, she had a flair for accessorizing. She’d wear goggles like headbands and layer on colorful Mardi Gras beads, treating them as her own personal jewelry. As she grew, her creativity flourished—tutus over tights, scarves donned as capes, and bandanas tied around her head like a pirate queen.
At one point, she developed a love for animal prints, often combining leopard, tiger, and cheetah patterns in ways only a child could envision. Picture a wild safari: a cheetah on her top and a tiger on her bottom, looking like a miniature rock star with her bandana. She would carry around bags filled with her favorite toys, ready to showcase her treasures at a moment’s notice.
People admired her unique style and the confidence she exuded. I, too, felt proud, hoping she’d always embrace her individuality, no matter how quirky it might seem. Now, as a fifth grader, she’s taller than some of her friends’ parents and has navigated the ups and downs of puberty with a laid-back attitude. Despite her changing body and moods, she still embodies that carefree toddler who wore riding boots with pajamas and butterfly wings. Her fashion choices are for her alone, and she’s unfazed by others’ opinions.
My partner and I have never engaged in elaborate back-to-school shopping sprees. We ensure they have fitting sneakers and a functional backpack, but that’s about it. When clothes get too small, we simply replace them. Much of their wardrobe comes from thrift stores, and I take pride in their enthusiasm for yard sale treasures. We don’t fuss over first-day outfits; we just ask them to wear something clean.
However, as my oldest approaches middle school, I’ve noticed her friends start to put more thought into their attire. I found myself wondering if she’d spend time choosing an outfit for the first day back. The stained t-shirt featuring our local dentist’s logo and the slightly small shorts with a small hole she wore made it clear she hadn’t spent a moment worrying about her look. She looked ready to tackle chores rather than the classroom; I’d seen her dress up more for soccer practice.
“Is that what you’re wearing to school?” I inquired.
She glanced down. “Yep, just put it on.”
“Are you sure that’s the shirt you want? Those shorts might be due for retirement.”
“Why? I like this shirt. These shorts are fine.”
I had to pause. She was right. Her outfit was perfectly acceptable.
In that moment, I realized I was projecting my own anxieties onto her, fearing judgment from others because I had once been self-conscious about my own clothing choices. As a kid, I often felt embarrassed by my hand-me-downs and limited wardrobe. I would never have worn something stained or with holes, fearing it would invite ridicule.
Suddenly, I was overwhelmed with pride that I had raised a child who didn’t think that way. Yes, she has more privileges than I did, but she remains humble. She doesn’t judge herself or others based on appearance; she recognizes fashion as a form of self-expression. I needed to step back and let her be herself. She is neither judgmental nor overly concerned about fitting in, and this is exactly what I want for her.
“You know there’s a tiny stain on your shirt, right? Is that okay with you?” I asked, still trying to shield her from potential teasing.
“Meh. I don’t care.”
“Cool. Just brush your hair.”
She rolled her eyes, “I did!”
After examining her hair, I decided it looked a bit better than when she woke up. I couldn’t help but smile at my growing child, who seems to take up more space both physically and emotionally. She has learned a lesson that took me years to grasp. My big kid, who still cherishes little trinkets and has a can-do attitude, stands firmly by her “this-works-for-me” philosophy. She has no reason to feel insecure about her appearance—and she knows it. I need to celebrate this more often; it’s a gift for both of us.
“What’s making you smile?” she asked.
“You,” I replied. “You look fantastic and ready to conquer fifth grade. I’m so proud of you.”
My child is comfortable in her own skin and practical with her clothing choices. She isn’t interested in keeping up with trends or what her friends are wearing; she listens to her own confident voice. I need to quiet my fears and support her as I did when she rocked mismatched animal prints. Her style may sometimes be a mix of tropical prints or two different camouflages, but she insists they look great together because they share the same theme.
Keep being you, kid. Your outfits shine because they make you feel good. For more insights, check out this related blog post.