I think I have a problem. I am not sure if I should be more disturbed that I have this problem or that I took the time to create photographic proof of my problem. I mean, after all I could have been vacuuming. Or doing laundry. Or cooking.
Instead I took pictures of Carly's shoe collection:
Isn't it grand? Did you notice that the little brown mary jane's have sand intact? It's enough to set my heart sighing with satisfaction.
My addiction doesn't end with shoes for Carly. Notice, the purse shelf:
And the hats. Oh the hats! There aren't very many because they can't just be any hats, cute hats only please:
I didn't go so far as to photograph the jewelry. After all, it would be hard to decide what to include. Only play jewelry? What about the bracelets and rings that are tucked away for Sundays only? What about the drawers and bags full of Grandma Annie's pretty things that will someday belong to Carly? I wear a few of those things on special occasions but mostly they are waiting for Carly's graceful, diva fingers to pluck them out of their drawers.
I decided that I am fulfilling my childhood dreams through this little girl. Dolls and shoes and patterned tights and poofy dresses, it all makes me so happy. Perhaps she will grow up with a unrealistic expectation of what life has to offer, having been so lavished with girly things.
OR! Maybe when she grows up she will know she's a queen.
p.s. These photos do not include the stray shoes and purses sprinkled outside, in cars and hiding under couches and beds. Or any of the shoes that are too big - which are a lot thanks to amazing Aunt Angie. Not that I'm bragging, just full disclosure.
p.s.s. Okay so maybe I am bragging a little. Carly comes by her diva status honestly, through intensive mother training.