The Sartorialist

We entered dangerous new territory on Saturday. Eve has a new raincoat and she hates it. I don’t mean the usual toddler reluctance to swap a much loved old garment for a new one, no, this is something altogether more mature, a situation I thought was at least five years in the distance. I showed her the raincoat yesterday and coaxed her into putting it on. She began crying and told me she hated the colour. I tried to cajole her with compliments and a PR job on the colour yellow, so many great things in the world are yellow I said – sunshine, daffodils, bananas and duck boats. It didn’t work and I caved in and let her wear her old coat. This morning she took the coat out of her wardrobe of her own volition and tried it on,  but after she’d looked at herself in the mirror she said “Mummy I like the shape but the colour is wrong”.

Tried again later but she looked so miserable and flatly refused to go out in it. A big part of me thinks tough, you’re four and I make the decisions, but another part of me respects her very articulate opinion. And there’s also the fact that while she might be capable of talking cut and colour she’ll pretty much do anything for a croissant from Caffè Nero, which will be my strategy come next Saturday.

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