Redneck Fashion Sense

My kids are amusing at times.

Shortly after J was born, B asked me, "Mom, since J was born in Texas, does that mean she's a redneck?"

Well, judging by the looks of us walking into Walmart this morning, I think there's a strong possibility that we are all, in fact, rednecks.

We had exactly thirty minutes to drive to Walmart, buy diapers, milk and cereal and get back home so I could get ready to go to the office. I was wearing my pink loungy-type pants, an oversize t-shirt, no makeup and no bra.
J was attached to the end of my arm, happily skipping along because her mother could not think of an argument to effectively convince her two year old self that pink princess stocking hats are not really necessary during June in Texas. Along behind her came K, limping and hobbling and whining that her knee must have hit the couch harder than she remembered the night before because now, NOW, she could not possibly be expected to walk. B followed at a great distance behind, trying to forget that he knows us I'm sure.

At any rate. It looks as though I have a hat girl. J loves hats. I am hat-impaired. I have no idea what kinds of hats go with outfits and I have no idea where to find cute little girl hats. So insistent and profound is this new love of head coverings, I figure I'd better have an alternative to the pink princess ski hat if I am ever going to have any dignity at all taking J anywhere in public in any month other than January or February. Or October since this is my only alternative to said pink princess ski hat:



So since I am hat impaired, I let the hat diva pick. This is what she insisted on:



I'm pretty sure plaids don't go with stripes, but am I wrong in thinking that nearly anything is better than pink princess ski hats in June? We didn't get nearly as many funny looks and sly snickers walking from the back of the store to the front as we did walking from the front of the store to the back.