See this here purse? Cutest thing ever. This is the latest edition to Elle's collection, courtesy of her great-aunt Kay (who, I hasten to add, isn't anywhere near old enough to be a great-aunt).
Elle loves this thing with enormous intensity, which is almost as much as I do.*
Which got me thinking.
Isn't there a vague law concerning the inequity and general unconstitutional-ness of a two-year-old owning a purse more expensive than her mother's? Surely there is. Somewhere.
We've discussed this before, I think, but for those of you with short term memories like mine, I'll brief you on the situation at hand:
I own a purse. Singular. Small, lime green, of the $15 Target variety. I actually would not own even this purse without the insistence and generosity of a friend who found my non-purse status ghastly, and who questioned whether or not I qualified as a female of our particular species without one.
My daughter owns purses. Multiple. The aforementioned newest is a Vera Bradley, in which she carries flavored chapstick and restaurant-quality crayons.
Somehow this is just not right.
Lucky for me she is sporadically generous, and even when she is not, she does go to bed at 8:00. So if I happen to hit the town with the girls (a phenomenon which appears about as often as Halley's comet), I can sneak it out and back before she ever wakes up.
Although I might leave the crayons behind.
*Footnote: For those of you who are now concerned that I've just experienced head trauma, relax, this post is in jest. I still don't give a sideways hoot about purses. You may put down the sympathy cards and carry on with your regularly scheduled life.