Begin by hearing the dreaded words “Moooooommmmmmmm I neeeeeeed new shoooortssss.” This is often the prelude to what is in store, as the whining lilt of the introduction causes your butt cheeks to clench as you slowly respond “Ok, we can go shopping on Saturday.” Keep waiting for the excitement of the potential Saturday trip to the mall together, hand and hand, Mother, Daughter, skipping in slow mo through the bountiful halls adorned with bags all in French…..but it never comes. Instead: “I neeeeeeeeeeeed themmmm nooooow!!!” Realize that if you do go now, at 7 pm, the mall will close soon, and therefore less greedy spending will occur.
Give a 5 minute warning. Suggest that you could go to Old Navy instead because they have a really
cheap wide selection, only to be leveled with “Do you want me to be like EVERYONE? I thought you wanted me to be an INDIVIDUAL.” Then, more sweetly “Please Mommy.” Realize that you are raising Verruca Salt.
Once in the car, have an in depth discussion about the failing economy and the limit to what you are prepared to spend this evening at the very trendy chain store that houses the INDIVIDUALISM we are going to purchase. Attempt a crash course in target marketing and why buy two, get one free is NOT such a great deal. Fail. Take a lesson (from a girl that once gave you some of the best chats while sitting on the potty in public restrooms) about the frequent shopper club and if we sign up now we can save 20% off of our $100.00 purchase. Revisit the spending limit discussion, with the “topic is closed” finale and notice you are driving way too fast.
Upon entering the store notice that it smells like strawberries and lime as the overly perky 19 year old in the way too short shorts pushes a sale flyer with “special offers inside” into a shopping basket that is immediately handed to
you your daughter. “Filler’ up!” the twit giggles to your little girl who has now started to skip. Look to see that the shorts being ogled by the giggle twit and Verruca are only slightly shorter than hot pants, and wonder if the clenching of your butt cheeks has made it so that you too can wear them. Remember that you are in charge, march over and say “Absolutely not” in an authoritative voice. Ignore eye rolls from twit. Find more appropriate short length and deal with the “they look like Capri pants” comment. Walk away for a minute to regain composure before announcing that she has 5 minutes until she gets to try them on. She LOVES to try them on! All of them! All the same style and size, but in EVERY COLOR!!
After the 6th version of the exact same shorts have been tried on, decide that you are now done. Yes, you may buy 2 cuz you will get one free, and walk toward the register to seal the deal. Find out that you have lost your child in a sea of dresses, hats, socks, tanks, tube tops, earrings, scarves, flip flops, necklaces, skirts, leggings, sandals, hoodies, towels and strawberry lime scented lotions, erasers, lip glosses and tee shirts. You turn to see her eyes roll in a Jonestown-like rapture and in her hands is today’s ONE DAY ONLY special tie dyed matching bralette and boy short. You recall the scene in Poltergeist:“I don’t know what hovers over this house, but it was strong enough to punch a hole into this world and take your daughter away from you. It keeps Carol Anne very close to it and away from the spectral light. It LIES to her, it tells her things only a child could understand. It has been using her to restrain the others. To her, it simply IS another child. To us, it is the BEAST. Now, let’s go get your daughter.”
And you grab her by the hand, pulling your baby back to you, as you toss the today’s special value back into the hands of the giggling twit who has taken on demonic form.
Upon arriving home, completely exhausted, you are treated to a fashion show of every “reeeeaaallly cute” combo that can be made with the new shorts and help (by listening and agreeing) to decide the ultimate… which will be worn tomorrow. The decision. Purple. As you ease off your shoes and prepare to pour a nice glass of wine you hear the cry. “Mommy!!!! They left the security tag on!!” As you You Tube “HOW TO JACK A SECURITY TAG” you quietly hum “Thank Heaven for Little Girls” and thank the Universe for only giving you what you can handle, one son and one daughter.