You’re constantly outgrowing things now. Literally something that fits you one day will not fit you the next time I try it on, only a few days later. And accessories are not excluded; hats, socks and shoes seem to be outgrown at record pace. I’ve finally gotten a handle on the constant shifting of your wardrobe, of moving clothes out and into the garage, and of moving larger sizes into the rotation. But there are a few precious items that are my favorites, articles that I just cannot bring myself to relegate to the garage. For now they’re still hanging in the closet or neatly stacked on a shelf. I’m on the lookout for something perfect to contain them, a special box or bag to hold my memories.
There’s the pink flowered onesie that I bought for your one-week photo shoot; it was the first item I bought for my little girl (rather than the many that I’d bought for the gender-neutral purposes of all those first clothes I bought). There’s the too-cute yellow wool sweater with matching bonnet that your nana gave you, the blue sweater and matching hat that Kristy and Addie loaned us, the elephant hat, and tiny ballet slippers, the white outfit you came home from the hospital in. The problem is that the list goes on and on, and thus grows my stack of favorite things.