I had one of those moments today. You know, one of those 'strapped for cash mother of a female growing up in this materialistic superficial society' moments that I have known was coming but also dreading it. I just thought that I had a few years before it got here.
Emily and I were in the car driving home from school. It was sunny, the birds were out and singing, spring was showing budding signs of it's glorious return, and then she said it. "Mom, I want to wear fashionable clothes". *Insert sound of record scratching here*
Me: *cough* *think quietly before opening my mouth* "Well...honey...what are fashionable clothes?"
Em: "You know, like, skirts and cute shirts, and tights!"
Me: "You have all those kinds of clothes don't you?" *thinking to myself 'ohmygawdpleasesayyes'
Em: "Yeah, you just don't lay them out for me."
I can't tell you how relieved I was at this revelation here at the end. No, this isn't the beginning of the battle with my child about how me and my broke ass are the reason she isn't popular and has no friends, it's just that I don't pick out the right clothes from her closet.
Me: "Well, I would love it if you got up in time to pick out your own clothes in the morning!"
Em: "But you don't wake me up!"
Me: "HAH! I spent about 45 minutes trying to wake you up this morning..." (My child is famously NOT a morning person. At family camp this year, after a night of karaoke, when I tried to rouse her for breakfast, she literally threw her pillow at me. I am lucky she has lousy aim.)
So you get the point. Crisis adverted, for now, and hopefully for at least two more years.
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