Millin, Miln, millery, oh HAT!

The Whee is a hat girl. That's a gift not everyone can claim. Not everyone looks good in hats. Or some people only look good in some hats. Or some hats only look good sometimes.  Whatever. I can see where this is headed.  oops, sorry.

In a moment of weakness, (or complete boredom) I succumbed to the incessant chorus of "ppllleeeeeeease can we go walk around the mall?"  I do not like the mall. The mall is evil. The mall is for people who are too unimaginative to think of something else to do. Here's my top 10 reasons why I do not like to go to the mall.

1. There are too many people.
2. Too many people are texting while they walk and I get tired of dodging them.
3. Parking is ridiculously hard to find.
4. There are too many tempting food places.
5. I always spend more money than I planned on.
6. There are always unhappy children shrieking at ear-piercing decibels.
7. I spend more money than I should.
8. I spend more money than I have.
9. I am not a recreational shopper.
10. Nothing ever fits when I try it on.

But, apparently I had a bad brain day and we ended up at the mall. That was bad choice #1. We had a pretzel. That was bad choice #2.  Then we had a cookie. That was bad choice #3.  No, on second thought, it made the mall more bearable.  Good choice #1.

Then we went into the store-of-only-seasonal-existance, which right now is full of costumes. Good choice #2.

The Whee tried on a multitude of costumes, masks, and hats. This was the best use of my time all day. There was the Rastafarian hat- I think she could go with the brunette dreadlocks look and be good.

Then there was the chicken hat. This was my personal favorite. I am perfectly OK with my child being seen in public wearing ridiculous headgear, especially if there is a chance we'll run into a boy who might have entertained the thought of calling her. I was willing to pay her $20 if she wore it through the whole mall and all of Campus Corner. She wavered for a moment, till she asked to see the twenty and I told her I'd give it to her later. Nix the chicken hat.

Then, ahhh- ahhh-  Oscar!  Oscar the Grouch! This was it. The hat of hats. The cool of hats, the "perfect as a new winter cap" hat, the "I'm making a statement about how cool I am" hat.

And so my darling offspring came home with a new hat, I came home with cookie breath, and everyone was happy. Our mall meanderings were not so hairy after all.

(ouch. stop that.  sorry)


This hat is so awesome, she sleeps with it on. 'Cause she's cool like that. And she makes the hat look good.

                           Happy Trails, wherever you're headed!