My youngest daughter came into the kitchen this morning and it looked like an rainbow had attacked her in her bedroom. She had on sports socks, leggings, a ruffled top, a poncho and a plaid kilt. And what was my first instinct? My first instinct was to go back to her room and help her pick out something that matches. But I didn't. I haven't commented or said anything for quite sometime on her choices because I've learned to quiet anal, matchy-matchy me and embrace the fashion confusion that is …
