I picked out nice options β light blue sweater, beige pants. He took one look and said "I don't like those." Then he picked a bright orange dinosaur t-shirt with neon green shorts.
Every fiber wanted to convince him otherwise. But I stopped myself. Whose clothes are these? His. Who gets to decide what he feels good in? Him.
I bought the dinosaur shirt. He wore it for a week straight, beaming every time.
Small lesson in letting go. My job isn't to dress him in what I think looks good. It's to help him develop his own style, his own preferences, his own identity. Even if that identity involves dinosaurs and neon.
Next time, I let him lead. He walked out with a rocket ship backpack I'd never have chosen. He was the happiest kid in the mall. That's the win.