Lila, a curly-haired girl of six, squints at her reflection in the tall mirror. She reaches for a soft yellow shirt and slips it over her head. As soon as the fabric touches her skin, she frowns, tugging at the collar. "It bugs!" she declares loudly, her voice echoing in the tidy room.

Lila tries on a blue skirt with twirling ruffles, but the waistband feels too tight. She wiggles out of it, tossing it aside. The next is a glittery sweater, but the sequins scratch her arms. "This bugs too!" she complains, her nose scrunched in frustration.

Mom enters the room, concern and patience in her eyes. She crouches beside Lila, gently stroking her arm. "What if we try something soft and simple?" she suggests, pulling out a plain cotton dress from the closet. "Will it bug?" Lila asks, hesitant.

The dress hangs gently on her small frame, the fabric smooth and light. She twirls once, eyes searching for anything that might itch or pinch. A moment passes as she stands still, waiting for the feeling. "Maybe it’s okay... but the tag bugs!" she sighs, reaching back to tug at the collar.

She pats her dress, feeling for any hidden discomfort, but her smile grows. The stuffed animals seem to watch approvingly from their perch on the bed. "I think this one doesn’t bug," she finally says, her voice soft with relief.

Lila stands by the door, dressed and ready, her face glowing with pride. Mom gives her a gentle hug, whispering encouragement. "You’re perfect just as you are," she says, and Lila grins, finally at ease.