Mannequin!

I don't spend much time in the mall. Shopping gives me a headache. The mirrors reflect an indecisive, fashion challenged girl who'd much rather be on a trail with her mutts where hair and shoes are only measured for their comfort. Plus, I'm cheap.

So, I hadn't realized how little time I spend shopping until Sarah and I walked into a big department store yesterday. There greeting us were a trio of mannequins in some bizarro 80's fashion. I hadn't even noticed them until the little body next to me froze and asked, "What's that?"

I followed her mystified gaze and realized she was asking about the dummies (and I'm not talking about the ladies at the make-up counters. hee...hee...). Oh my gosh! I realized she had never seen a mannequin.

I explained, "Those are mannequins."

"They talk?"

"No. They don't talk, and they don't move. They're like big dolls."

Her eyes rolled over every inch of the 6-foot posers. She checked out their mile-long eyelashes, red hair and spiky shoes.

I said again, "They're called mannequins."

"I take their shoes off?"

"No. We leave their shoes on."

With a spark in her eye, "I knock them over?"

Trying not to laugh and agree, I said, "No. Let's go ride the elevator."

She followed me but stopped uneasily at every mannequin we saw and stared for a bit.

The kid can step up to an elephant, hop on it's back and take it for a quick shower without batting an eyelash, but when confronted by a run of the mill, skanked up department store mannequin, she's frozen in her tracks with confusion and a bit of horror. Yeah! That's when I know I'm doing my job.