Two pairs of rhinestone-studded flip-flops. Sequin-trimmed tank tops. Capri pants. Leggings. Headbands. Jewelry. Sunglasses. A beaded shawl.
“You can’t take all this stuff,” I say to my nine-year-old daughter Molly.
“Mom, just because you have no sense of fashion-”
“Oh my God, there’s more?” I say, as I spot a diary, Nancy Drew mysteries, sketchbooks, and a stuffed bear with multiple outfits piled by her bedroom door. “I told you: pajamas, underwear, toothbrush.” (more…)