So we got Molly's ears pierced on Tuesday night. She was excited, but I may have pressured her a wee bit because:
a) I got mine pierced when I was her age and I remember begging for months before my mom finally let me do it. So, I may have been operating off of contact excitement left over from 1978.
b)Her birthday is coming up and I have absolutely NO gift ideas for her.
If you recall that 2 years ago we gave her a coupon for Christmas guaranteeing she would never have to go to Home Depot again, you understand that while it may seem great having a kid who never really wants anything, it can sap your creative powers. So, the idea of getting her a bunch of cute earrings for her birthday was appealing.
I guess she doesn't find my life all that glamorous.
She was a rock star in the piercing chair and got adorable little blue studs.
The next morning, however, she had a little piercer's remorse, which probably happens more often with piercings in more "creative" body locations.
Molly hugged me tightly and said she was afraid that getting earrings might mean she was growing up too fast. She continued, "It'll be awful. Like, instead of you taking care of me and doing stuff for me anymore I'll have to take care of kids and pay taxes and stuff."
I guess she doesn't find my life all that glamorous.
