We had already finished doing what we always do at Target, which is decide to buy everything in the store, and we were making one last stop in the dressing rooms to make sure we definitely wanted to buy everything in the store. (We did.)
There I was, trying on a cat-print dress in the stall next to a mother and her 8 yr. old daughter, who I knew was named Stella due to the 3,000 times I heard her mother say it.
Stella: "Pants, Pants, Pants. Why do I have to try on so many pants????" (She would have appreciated those pants if she had been through the pantspocalypse that I just experienced.)
Mom: "Because you have to wear pants. Everyone has to wear pants."
Stella: (I hear her begin to play the drums on the wall) "I could wear dresses."
Mom: "Stella, stop hitting on the wall. You can't wear dresses. You show everyone your underwear when you wear dresses. Put these pants on."
Stella: (Begins drumming on the ground) "But those are normal pants. I only like sparkly pants."
Mom: "Stop hitting the ground Stella. We're not buying sparkly pants. We're buying normal pants."
Stella: (Begins kicking the door) "Can I get a sparkly dress?"
Mom: "STELLA, STOP KICKING THE DOOR. WHY CAN'T YOU JUST ACT NORMAL??"
And then Stella began to whimper.
And then Stella began to cry.
And then Stella yelled from the depths of her sparkly, little soul:
"I'M TRYYYYIIINNNGGG TO ACT NORMAL. IT'S HAAAAARRRDDDD."
And all I could think was: I hear ya Stella. I really, freaking hear ya.