In our house, I’m the big dog when it comes to the kids. Daddy’s the softy, Mom’s the one who might poison you a little bit to teach you a lesson about back-talking your elders. So it’s really rare that I EVER use those fateful words, “Wait til your Daddy gets home.”
But yesterday was one of those days. And it was glorious.
My oldest child, all five feet tall of her, seriously wanted to know if she could have a certain kind of clothing that the “other kids” were wearing. I should have been suspicious right away, but I waited to see how this “other kids are wearing it” story played out. I let her keep talking as she described the clothing. Then I asked her where we would buy this clothing.
“At vieoshctonahrias shiejfcrehnnt.”
“See, I know what you did there. You mumbled, thinking I wouldn’t be able to hear you well enough to understand that you just said YOU WANTED ME TO BUY YOU CLOTHING FROM VICTORIA’S SECRET!”
She was stunned. The best part was my near-reaction which quickly evolved into nothingness.
“No, I’m not going to say anything. I’m going to let you ask Daddy and he can decide. But I get to be there when you ask him.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to watch.”
My husband did not disappoint. It took a full three minutes on the clock for his right eye to stop twitching. He eventually resorted to holding both eyelids open and staring at her as she continued to talk about how all of the other TWELVE-YEAR-OLDS got to wear Victoria’s Secret, how all of the other TWELVE-YEAR-OLDS’ parents bought their clothes for them there, etc. TWELVE-YEAR-OLDS etc.
He really never did get her to understand why he had an issue with it, so he also had to resort to one of the mainstays of parenting: “Because I said so.”
I, however, have a way with words.
“Sweetie, Victoria’s Secret is known for bras and panties.”
“So? I wasn’t asking for bras and panties, I wanted the sweat pants.”
“I know, but if you walk around in Victoria’s Secret sweatpants, people might think there are Victoria’s Secret bras and panties under your clothes.”
“So?”
“Do you want all of the TWELVE-YEAR-OLD boys at your school thinking about your bras and panties?”
“Aaaack!”
“I didn’t think so.”
For now, we’ve managed to steer her towards some more…age appropriate…clothing lines. Like Turtlenecks R Us.
Lorca Damon 
Wait, if memory serves Victoria’s Secret now sells baby clothes. For sure they sell kids’ underwear and pjs. I do think your solution was sheer genius. Congratulations!
I don’t want to talk about the connection between Victoria’s Secret selling clothes for 12yrolds AND clothes for babies. Just sayin’. #babymama
What a great argument to combat a non-boy crazy girl wanting to go to Vicky’s. š
It’s sometimes aggravating but more often wonderful that she’s so self-conscious!
Better a little self conscious at that age than the opposite, but I totally get what you’re saying. š
My only real worry along these lines is body image, but she’s a cross country runner (in a TINY outfit!) and a majorette, so I know she’s comfortable enough in her skin that she doesn’t feel self-conscious because of how she looks. I would go with “shy” about anything she perceives as sexy, more than anything else. (We’re actually not allowed to use the word “bra” in our house!)
LOL! I was raised by my mom and was a total tomboy. Unfortunately, I also started “maturing” early. She only wished I’d have been willing to use the word bra since I was in dire need of one by the time I was 12. I was in denial. Putting one on would’ve admitted that I was, in fact, a girl… To admit that might have meant giving up my grass stained jeans and putting on tights and pantyhose, too. I just wanted to play tackle football in they yard with all my boy friends. š
Ok, this post is just perfect. What is it doing only on your blogsite?! Get it out there, girl! We’ve all been where you are now (before all hell breaks loose with hormones) and let me tell you from experience: it ain’t pretty. Much luck!
Thanks! I love that my child’s pain has become amusement for the internet! The best part is she is working on her own counter-blog. I told her when she has five posts written I’ll help her start one, but she wants one that shares MY embarrassing stories!