1. So I'm starting to recant all I said about a girl never owning too many hairbows.
I may have taken it a bit too far.
Perhaps I should stop now.
NAH.
2. The kids were participating in a bit of old school redneck fun earlier today being pulled via belt in the laundry basket by Daddy. I had to post these fabo pj's we totally scored at Walmart. Spongebob at his finest: wifebeater form. With matching odd lengthed capris...
I should have made him stand up. It's too funny. DHR may take him away all in the name of bad taste.
Spongebob rocks our faces off. So do these ultra awesome white trash pjs.
3. I gave Emerson her first pedi last night after her bath. She was actually lying quite still after I’d put on her diaper, so I jumped on my chance to accentuate her ultra cute toenails with some sweet pink polish. {We matched!-insert obnoxious giggle here.}
I only wanted to see what they looked like…
Jamin grimaced. When I asked what his deal was, he claimed I was “making her grow up too fast”
“Seriously?” Was my response, because it wasn’t like I pierced her ears, let her try on a string bikini after a thorough body wax and dropped her off to work the nearest street corner. It was just nails. The child is almost sixteen months and the color was subtle.
Yet I found myself feeling guilty at the fact that I had de-viginized her sweet little piggies as soon as the deed was done.
I had introduced my little girl into the evil world of pink toenail polish, along with all it entails. We’ve seen this horrible cycle before. I may as well have entered her into one of those beauty contests with big fluffy hair, stiletto heels and hot pink lipstick. All for the sake of pretty pretty princess of the ultimate empress winner trophy.
It starts with the bad friends who wear matching pink polish. {i.e. Mean Girls} Then the grades drop, plummeting into horrid dating habits, and from there, the spiral to a point of no return: drugs and prostitution. All because her parents disagreed over which age to begin the application of pink toenail polish, thereby ultimately resulting in projected feelings of neglect, ineptitude, and a low self esteem…all forsaking the sacred value of the virgin toenails.
“OH WHAT HAVE I DONE???” I found myself wailing guiltily in my head. “I should have at least gone with a lighter shade!!!”
And then I noted how cute AND SUBTLE they were as she teetered past, and got over it. “Those will look so cute with her flip flops…”
No prostitot in the making there.
It was a few short minutes later when Aiden pranced into his room where I was hanging his dress shirt. “Look at me! Look at me!” he exclaimed. At first I didn’t see what he was talking about, as he stood proudly, presenting himself in the doorway.
And then I looked down. His toes were ALSO now donning a beautiful sparkly sheen, this time in a more “manly” choice of color: ultra dark purply polish.
“That’s not the same thing! “ I responded, letting my voice carry down the hall to where I knew Jamin stood, coyly waiting for my response.
Jamin merely chuckled.
This. Means. War.
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