He Said She Said: It’s not a fashion parade. Or is it?

SHE SAID:
PRINCESS Ella walked out wearing purple sneakers, pink cow socks, red shorts, a paint-stained yellow t-shirt and a brown peaked cap. Dressed by Daddy. Of course.
She was set for a day out with her dad. Well, not looking like that, you’re not! As expected, Julian throws back at me: “It’s not a fashion parade’’.
It’s after such a statement that I’m compelled to want to steer the bloke in The Shed in the direction of our full-length bedroom mirrors. What would he see? Hair that’s cut every five weeks to the day, a pair of Oakleys resting atop a stylish black Nike cap, Quicksilver t-shirt, two-month-old shorts and another new pair of white sneakers (which look exactly like the other 12 pairs in his wardrobe).
Sorry, but when Ella leaves the house I want her to look respectable, not like some scrubber from the Bronx. No offense, J-Lo. You just never know when the next European prince will fall in love with a Tasmanian.
It must be noted that after a major tantrum (from Ella and the bloke in The Shed), Ella was promptly changed into more “appropriate’’ clothing. It was incredible to see an instant change in the way she presented herself – from sitting with her legs spread and belly hanging out to walking like a lady and giggling with hands clasped over her li’l mouth. Awww. Now tell me that’s not cute.
Now, I’m not advocating dressing our kids like Suri Cruise. There’s something wrong about preschoolers in high heels and designer coats. However, I do want to see hair done (not scruffy mops of knots) and clothes co-ordinated (sorry, but the Punky Brewster look went out of style in the ‘80s). Mum has spoken. Enough said.

HE SAID:
I ask you, what in the world is wrong with a brown hat, a yellow top, red shorts, hot pink socks and purple shoes?
Exactly. Nothing.
Yet when I was about to walk out the door having dressed Princess Ella in said attire, the look on my good wife’s face was as if I’d dumped Ella in a bucket of tar, ripped open a doona and dumped it on her head.
“She is not going out with those clothes on,’’ was the scream from Kel. Stunned, Ella and I looked at Kel like she’d just slapped us across the face with a frozen fish.
Ella and I looked at each other and shrugged our shoulders. “Why not,’’ we thought (but did dare not utter).
Ella was happy. She was comfy and her track record suggested she’d get the clothes so dirty we’d be changing them again in an hour anyway. I was happy. I grabbed the first clothes I could from the pile of washing within arm’s reach and managed to get Ella completely dressed without spilling a drop of my coffee. Ella and I were going to watch a pet parade, not a fashion show, what did we care how we looked?
Well, obviously we’d missed a chapter in the “How to Keep Mum Happy” Handbook. As far as mum was concerned there was going to be other people we knew at the event and therefore Ella had to look “respectable” (even though Ella’s natural attire at home is a fairy dress, no undies – from not being bothered enough to put them back on after going to the toilet – and a Dora Explorer t-shirt).
No, it was clear. Apparently I could “inadvertently” teach Ella how to pick her nose or show her the joys of the “pull my finger” game, but dare I dress her in red shorts for a day out in public then it is grounds for divorce. I didn’t even buy her the red shorts. Kellie did.

So, is it important how your kids look when in public? Share your opinion on this  He Said She Said.

Also, Julian said he’d pay you if you voted for him in the Top 25 Daddy Blogs at Circle of Moms. Mind you, he said the same thing if I’d agree to marry him.