When did I get so stupid?
Last Saturday, I took my daughter to an arts and crafts festival downtown. We wandered up and down the sidewalk, fondling handmade scarves and sculptures created from common household utensils. The kid unexpectedly turned and strode into a boutique and I followed her in. It was one of those women's clothing stores into which I almost never venture, the type that's chock full of oversized accessories, impractical purses, and what-are-YOU-doing-in-here salespeople. When you see just three of something hanging on a rack, you know you can't afford it. A skipped up to a hot pink halter dress with a diaphanous skirt strewn with tiny crystals. "Mommy, you would look so beautiful in this dress!" she exclaimed, pulling the dress outward so that I could take in its glory. "Oh, sweetie," I responded, running my fingers over the flowing fabric, "I don't know where I'd wear a dress like that." She stopped and turned around, looking up at me with