So before the Great Flu Invasion of 2010, Curly and I were at, where else, Target, perusing the dollar section. She had a buck to spend and it was burning a hole in her pocket. As she browsed, I spotted something I actually needed.
"Curly, look, Tinker Bell lunch baggies! Do you want those?"
She shakes her head "No."
"No, no." Say I. "Not with your money. I'm all out of baggies anyway, so I need to get some. I can get those instead of regular ones."
"No thanks."
"Really?"
"Mom" she looks around and then lowers her voice, as if to let me in on a HUGE secret. "They're kind of for babies."
"Ah." say I, nodding as if I completely understand..
But inside I am screaming "NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
Why does she have to get big? Tinkerbell is for babies? (Please disregard that she has a TinkerBell backpack. I guess that's OK, because she's had it all year.) What's next, she'll be too cool to hold my hand? (Sssssh. Don't tell me that yes, that is next. I don't want to know it.) I suspect that within the the next trip or two the Princess Lunch at Disneyland will be something she does to humor her old mother and that pretty soon we'll be discussing brand name clothing.
Growing up is the hardest part of parenthood some days.
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It's brutal, isn't it? The whole growing up thing. Why must they keep doing that? I keep telling them to slow down, but they never listen.
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