My three year old’s backpack ripped several weeks ago. It’s only had one strap ever since but we’ve been continuing to use it until I find her a new one. I love that backpack. I’m sad to see it go. That’s probably why I delayed shopping for a new one. That I had the bubonic plague.
My husband said I should just take her to Target and let her pick a new one. He seems to think it’s just a backpack. He seems to think I’m slightly insane. Whatever.
The problem was I knew she’d just pick something pink. And probably with a Disney character no less. Gag me. As the little manservant trailing along behind her carrying the thing, can't we get something cute? Can't we get something that makes us think happy thoughts when we see it? Kind of like this one? Right. Nice try. That one is red and blue. That is not acceptable. Pink is her signature color.
I almost had her sold on this one because of the cute little owl change purse that comes off. Only it’s mostly brown. Which means it’s mostly not pink. Then for three seconds I thought about trying to get her to like a funky Roxy backpack. Only, I think I’d be the only one to find that choice kind of fresh and trendy and $50 seems unreasonable for something I know she’s going to immediately mark up with a pen anyway.
Ultimately, we ended up ordering the one she loved at first sight. Pink. Of course. But in a Pottery Barn sort of way I guess. And it’s by Skyway. They make luggage so it should be sturdy. Her last one was big time adorable but less sturdy. It was fine for the toddler years where all we needed to shove in there were a few clothes and naptime stuff. But her stuff is getting heavier and sturdy is becoming the name of the game.
In the spirit of all things sturdy, I even passed up this supercute cowboy backpack several months ago in favor of a more sturdy Samonite turtle one for my son. I can’t say enough about how rough and tough it is. I love that backpack too. Enough that I’ve mentally let go of the the cowboy one. I rarely if ever think about how to die for cute it would have looked with my son’s name stitched into the sheriff’s star at a jaunty angle. Whatever. Let's not talk about it.