Why Must Everything be a Hat?

Neither Sumie nor I are hat people.  For Sumie, it's not so much a matter of how she looks in a hat, but finding one that fits.  I call it "Giada de Laurentis Syndrome."  When we do occasionally find a hat for Sumie, it looks just fine on her.  With me, it's a different story.  I've never looked good in a hat.     

There is no way around it.  I've tried cowboy hats, beanies, fedoras, driving caps, baseball caps, you name it.  None of them work.  Baseball caps are particularly nasty.  At best I'm lucky to pass as Michael Moore after a failed diet and a shave.  Most, though, make me look like Corky from "Life Goes On."  So, I it's only natural that I'm a little concerned by Mimi's new obsession with putting things on her head.

Oddly enough, Mimi tends to dislike real hats.  She'll rip off a winter cap in under ten seconds, even if it results in suffocation.  She does, however, enjoy placing anything concave that is not a hat on top of her head.  Colanders, boxes, bowls, tissue paper, zip-lock bags (scarily, when she manages to fish one out of the recycling), and even the occasional toy refrigerator.

Here's a selection of Mimi's fashion-forward headgear.  First, we start off with the Tinkerbell pencil case Mimi received from her Great Grandmother.

The pencil case fit well.  She looked like she'd just gotten off her shift from In-N-Out.  The next selection wasn't so successful.  As a bag for blocks, it's fantastic.  As a hat, not so much. 

While boxes don't fit as snugly as cases, they do tend to stay on better.  At least until they slide the other way and completely blind you. 

The only real hat Mimi will wear, or course, doesn't look like a hat at all.  It's a sock monkey puppet hat and will be perfect with the cold weather approaching.  Unfortunately, because it's actually a hat, Mimi insists that she go shirtless while wearing it.  I'm still trying to break down the logic of this one. 

Thankfully, Mimi is beginning to learn that not everything need be a hat.  The other day I found her a used Red Flyer tricycle.  She still needs to grow into it, and I need to fix the front wheel (which is no longer connected to the pedals), but for $8.00, it was a great deal.  And Mimi knows not to put it on her head!

Later that night, to celebrate her trike riding I suppose, Mimi decided to create something new for the dinner table.  Using yogurt, pasta, juice, cheese, and backwash, Mimi created what Sumie and I dubbed "The Most Disgusting Cup in the World."  Even its own creator found it thoroughly revolting. 

Despite the occasional bad hat choice or cup filthying, Mimi seems to be developing a much better sense of the world around her.  She's recognizing numbers, playing better with others, enjoying daycare, and insisting on going out to play as soon as her father dresses her each morning (it doesn't always happen).  Being a part of that development has been, quite simply, amazing.  I feel very lucky these days.  I hope Mimi does, too.