It's her favorite shirt, the first one she puts on as soon as the laundry is finished. Sometimes, she doesn't even wait for me to fold it before it's slipped over her brunette bangs and worn proudly. The cuffs are grey, in spite of my efforts and the promises of Oxyclean. There is a definitely frayed look about the neck and it appears that she has taken to the habit of sucking on the front of her shirt. A stain on one elbow tells me that she wore it once when we were painting or markering or play-doh-ing or chalking. Some pinky-orange mark that has survived the repeated washings and dryings. Her shirt that she wears even today with her turquoise glittery pants and her pink princess moon boots. This shirt makes its appearance once (maybe twice) a week - rain or shine, home days and errand days, weekends and weekdays, spring or summer or winter or fall. And it doesn't even matter that it's a Halloween shirt; complete with bats in flight.
It's her favorite shirt and she will wear it again and again and again until the seams let go and the fabric withers. And even then ... she might still try.