Even If You're a Plumber

Because I watched Season 4 of Project Runway, I now know that low-rise pants are on their way out, and I say: Thank God! It's about time!

Ellie feels the same way. She's beginning to develop definite preferences for things, which I love, and one of them is for her shirts to meet her pants. As she's a bit long-waisted, and styles being what they are, this has become an area of concern. She doesn't want an exposed midriff, and she doesn't want to feel like her pants are in danger of falling off.

Ellie will tug up on a pair of low-rise bikini underpants sent by her Nana and say, with great frustration, "It's not working!"

I think that pretty much nails it, right there.

I have a couple of very lovely friends who regularly expose their very lovely bottoms, but I don't think that seeing anyone's butt crack while they're sitting down in a pair of jeans is very lovely. (I include my own backside in this same prohibition, though I know I've been guilty of flashing my underpants upon occasion; it's simply very hard to find an entire wardrobe of shirts that are long enough paired with pants that stay high enough.)

I've long offered Ellie choices between acceptable alternatives, and it warms my heart to see her developing true preferences. She's never been a kid who cares if I put her milk in the blue cup or the yellow one, but lately, she really would prefer to be the green Hungry, Hungry Hippo. And she currently loves Calling Doctor Amelia Bedelia above all other books (courtesy of our local library).

Most fun of all, Ellie now has two dolls with names. You might recall that many of Ellie's dolls have consistent names like, "Baby," and "Dolly." A few months ago, she inherited my first Cabbage Patch Doll, who is a little black boy named Edgar. She loves Edgar and calls him by his given name. Paul recently noticed that another of Ellie's dolls has a particularly distinctive name. She's an inexpensive little doll (plastic head, hands, and feet, soft body, about 6 inches tall) found near Ellie's stuffed stocking at my parents' house on Christmas morning, and her name is Nellie. Ellie hasn't been watching Little House on the Prairie, and while Paul and I know a couple of adult women named Nell, we don't believe that Ellie has ever met either of them. Somehow, however, she has decided that "Nellie" is a wonderful name for her new little doll, and she's perfectly right. It's a lovely name.

My girl has all-around good taste. Have I mentioned that she is completely uninterested in the Disney Princess hysteria? Bless her heart.