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x354-q80When I took H2 to the mall, I was planning on picking up two pairs of workout pants I had set aside. However, my plan was quickly revised when the sales woman enticed me with some fabulous tops. I couldn’t leave a six year old by herself. Into the fitting room we went. As much as I tried changing my pants by bending down enough to cover my undergarments, she got a peek. A conversation ensued. She inquired about different types and I nonchalantly named them, because per psychologists the less of a big deal you make of “taboo” issues, the better it is for the kids. After a while she said:

H2: “BB. Do they make those for children?”

Uh oh. “Err, no they don’t honey.”

“Why not?”

“Well I have never seen a kid who would want them.”

Oh for the love of God. Even George Bush could come up with a better answer. 

“But have you seen a kid who tried them on?”

You see my point? 

“No, actually.”

Having just said how comfortable they are, all I could think of was:

“Because they are not comfortable.”
“I thought you said they were comfortable.”

What is this? The presidential debate? 

“Well they are not appropriate.”

“What’s that mean?”

“You know how some things are only for grown-ups? For instance, you don’t wear makeup. Right?

“But I did at Disney,” referring to an Elsa day we had where we took her and her sister to Elsa and Anna Boutique and had a hair, nails, makeup day.

Good grief.  What’s with the good memory? 

“Yes, but you don’t do it every day, right?”


There. She got it already, but for some reason I felt a great urge to keep hearing my own voice.

“It would be like a grown-up doing what kids do.” Considering I am one of those grown-ups, that statement was the worse thing to say.

“But dad says grown-ups should be in touch with their inner child.”

Busted again.

“Guess what? I’m all done here. It’s time to go shopping for you. Are you ready?”


Yay indeed.