Underneath the hat feathers and superhero costumes, dress-up play is serious business, teaching your kids skills they ' ll use for years to come.
At age two and a half, my daughter, Hannah, was replaced by an alligator
Day in, day out, I ' d �nd myself looking down into the sinister white-felt eyes topping the green plush costume she ' d �rst worn for Halloween. When the suit got too dirty, getting it off her was like an episode of Man vs. Wild. " I need Alligator!"
she ' d beg, and I ' d again�sh it out of the hamper.
This wouldn ' t be the last puzzling transformation I ' d witness around the dress-up box. At age 3, my son, Ethan, spent two weeks
donning a wig and heels to preside over his / her kingdom as " Princess Rose." Meanwhile, friends involved in furious eBay hunts for the perfect knight costume— size 4— were pausing to ask me, presumably the older, wiser mom, their questions about kids '
fascination with dressing up. Consulting experts and an alligator-high book stack, I found some answers.
My 2-year-old is obsessed with her " magic slippers " but not any other part of the costume they came with. What is this about?
When it comes to dress-up, shoes are often a child ' s �rst love.( Pioneering child psychologist Louise Bates Ames called them the " very favorite object.") It ' s not hard to understand the allure for little Carrie Bradshaws: Shoes show that kids are now grown-up, and going places. They ' re easy-on, easy-off, yet sport intriguing mysteries such as buckles and laces. And they ' re potent symbols of Mom and Dad, favorite subjects of early play. For all these reasons, the iconic shot of a toddler teetering precariously in Mom ' s high heels is legally required for every baby album.
My 3-year-old decks out in so much froufrou that it looks like she ' s headlining a cabaret. Is this a predictor of her gulp! grown-up style?
Jeans-clad, �ip-�ops— wearing mothers may well wonder how they could have produced a little Dolly Parton. But according to Ann Barbour, Ph. D., a professor of early childhood education at California State University, Los Angeles and a former preschool teacher, this taste for ball gowns, tutus and crinoline is a normal development as little girls start working out for themselves what it means to be female. " At �rst, they base that understanding on outward characteristics, and sometimes they go to extremes," she says.
Take heart: Many girls pass through these common experiments without a lasting penchant for glitter. My own pom-pom— wielding preschooler has morphed into a 13-year-old volleyball spiker who insists her T-shirts and sweatpants be in no way“ bind-y."