There's a particular kind of chaos that comes with raising small children, the spilled juice, the 2 a.m. wakeups, the negotiations over which socks are acceptable that day. Megan and Ted, the husband-and-wife team behind Little Empire, have a name for it: Thunderdome. It's not said with dread, though. It's said with affection, the way you might describe a wild but beloved family pet. And that affectionate, slightly chaotic spirit is exactly what they've built their Decatur children's clothing shop around.
"Being a parent to young kids is as tough as it is beautiful," Megan says. "We wanted Little Empire to embrace all of it." That means dresses with pockets roomy enough to hide a smuggled snack, pajamas designed for the kids who simply refuse to sleep, and T-shirts posing life's truly pressing questions, like whether anyone could really live without pancakes. It's clothing that doesn't just survive childhood, it celebrates it. Because, as Megan points out, when families look back at old photos years from now, they won't just remember the hard parts. They'll remember the magic. And sometimes that magic shows up in the form of a strawberry-print romper.
What makes Little Empire especially personal is that it's not just Megan and Ted's vision, it belongs to their kids, too. Evelyn, their daughter, has been an artist since she could hold a crayon, filling notebooks with dragon parties, strange tiny creatures, and anime characters dressed in outfits cooler than anything you'd find on a runway. Her brother Teddy is the family's builder and pattern-maker, with a particular fondness for drawing muscular cats. Given that Megan and Ted spent years working as advertising creatives, it felt inevitable that their children's imaginations would eventually find a home inside the shop. Some of Little Empire's original designs are already 100% kid-imagined, and the family hopes to grow that side of the business into something bigger, eventually opening it up to a wider community of young artists.
That blend of imagination and intention also shapes how Little Empire chooses what goes on its racks. Megan spent years as a writer for Tea Collection, a brand she fell completely in love with for its storytelling and global influences. It became the first label she brought into the shop, joined over time by favorites like Hanna Andersson, Primary, Mon Coeur, and Rylee + Cru — brands that share a commitment to playful design and clothing tough enough to survive actual childhood, ice cream stains and mud puddles included. This year, the shop is especially excited to welcome Patagonia, a brand Megan calls a long-held dream for its mix of beautiful design and built-to-last durability. As she puts it, "if a jacket can survive a three-year-old, it can survive just about anything."
That idea of longevity doesn't stop at new clothing. It's also the inspiration behind one of the shop's most beloved features: its resale rack, affectionately named Little Empire Strikes Back. Kids outgrow clothes fast, and quality pieces aren't cheap, so Megan and Ted wanted a way for favorite hoodies and dresses to live on rather than disappear into storage bins. Through resale, one family's outgrown favorite becomes another family's new treasure and the original owners get something back in return. Megan describes passing down her daughter's first-day-of-school overalls to a neighbor, and still seeing them years later on the walk to Winnona Park. Her hope is that pieces circulate through Decatur so many times that no one remembers who wore them first. It's a small, sentimental kind of magic proof, she says, "that not everything has to be new to be special."
None of this would make sense anywhere but Decatur, a place Megan describes with real tenderness. It's a city, she says, where kids still ride bikes home in the rain with fishing poles slung over their shoulders, where summers are spent bouncing between community pools, chasing Frisbees at Legacy Park, and digging for worms at the Wylde Center. Little Empire was built to reflect that spirit with clothes kids can actually move, play, and be kids in, even the moodiest of tweens. "We want Little Empire to feel like it belongs to Decatur," Megan says, "because Decatur has always felt like it belongs to its kids."
As for what's next, the shop is gearing up for back-to-school season, "growth spurts keep us in business," Megan jokes along with a new lineup of fall pieces: hoodies, joggers, and cozy layered staples for whenever the season finally decides to show up. Social media, she admits with a laugh, remains a work in progress. As former ad creatives, she and Ted have a habit of overthinking everything, including Instagram captions and lightning bolt emoji usage. "We'll probably do alot of it wrong," she says. "Hopefully, eventually, we'll get it right."
What hasn't been a struggle is finding support. Megan speaks warmly of the small business community that's rallied around Little Empire. Since day one, from Kim Bach at Clubhouse Kid + Craft, to local dads Josh and Luke of Local Architects, who designed the shop to feel like something out of Moonrise Kingdom. The team at Revolution Doughnuts and Oakhurst Market regularly check in and send customers their way.
For Megan, that sense of neighborly generosity is the heart of the story. "Little Empire may be our dream," she says, "but it wouldn't exist without a community that believes in lifting up its neighbors." In Decatur, even a children's clothing shop can become something much bigger, a small, sentimental thread tying neighbors, kids, and a little bit of mischief together.
littleempireshop.com