The Sweater Dilemma

My eleven-year-old daughter received a very nice (in my opinion) blue and teal striped, V-neck sweater from my mom at Christmas. My daughter usually wears her sister's hand-me-downs, and she actually likes to wear them since they are from a special, well-known store. (My older daughter often buys most of her own clothes, because I am trying to teach her the value of a dollar). The majority of my youngest daughter's clothes, are slightly worn but are brand named. And they're from a cool store. You get the picture.

This particular sweater, however, hadn't been purchased from the brand named store. There was no logo on it, one designed for easy recognition. Upon opening the gift, my daughter appeared to be smiling, so I assumed she liked it.

Somehow, by the time we got the sweater home and unpacked, the receipt was missing. When she tried the sweater on at home, under duress I might add, it appeared to be slightly too large for her frame. I offered to wash it, since it was made of cotton. She agreed that washing it would make it shrink and therefore fit better, and THEN she would wear it. So she said.

I washed it, and she again tried it on. Perfect fit. But my daughter declared that she didn't like it. I got upset. Very upset. I told her that it is a very nice sweater and that Grandma put a lot of time and effort into buying it for her, not to mention that she is on a fixed income and every penny counts. I suggested that we visit an orphanage to see what other children were wearing. To be honest, I don't even know where an orphanage is located , but if I had to, I'd find one.

Finally, at my wits end, I told her that she just had to wear it to school. I felt like a bad mother for insisting that she do this. I also made a deal with her. The deal was this: For every person that paid her a compliment on that sweater, I'd give her a dollar.

She replied with, "How about this: For every person who makes fun of it or gives me a dirty look, you owe me a dollar." Hmmm... I couldn't help but wonder which of the two scenarios would be a better bargain for me.

So... here is my request to anyone reading this post: Please pray that she gets a few compliments! I'll let you know how it turns out!

I Have A Cleavage!

Well, tonight's escapade certainly takes the cake. We were enjoying ourselves at a favorite restaurant. Seated at the round table were Brian, our two daughters, Melissa and Caroline, Emily (Caroline's friend), and I. It was a late night for us all, and fatigue was beginning to set in.

Happily enjoying my entree, and somewhat lost in my thoughts, I wasn't even looking at Caroline, my 10-year-old, when she blurted out, "Look! I have a cleavage!"

*Note: Caroline is small for her age, and she's not even close to entering physical maturity yet.*

Her outburst hung in the air. Brian's mouth nearly fell onto his lap. Melissa, who's recently found herself smack in the middle of being a 13-year-old young lady and is therefore very conscious of adhering to social mores, flashed a look of horror to me. Because the tables were located unusually close together, several people who were sitting alongside us became momentarily silent, as they, too, turned their heads toward Caroline.

Startled, I shot a questioning look at her and asked, "WHAT are you talking about?!?"

In her raised hand, Caroline proudly held up a piece of white, sinewy material that she'd just finished extracting from within the exoskeleton of her crab legs.

"Oh, Honey, " I continued, trying not to choke on my food as I laughed aloud. "That's CARTILAGE, not cleavage! You have a piece of cartilage!"

Well, at least she'd mastered the last syllable - "age." The others around our table - and for that matter, nearly half of the restaurant - embraced the humor of the moment.

Except for Melissa, who just stared at Caroline and rolled her eyes. The amount of irritation in Melissa's voice was so thick that I could've cut it with my butter knife: "A cleavage - CAROLINE - is the line that forms when your boobs are pushed together!" More eye rolling by my older daughter was again demonstrated.

Giggling around our table erupted, especially by the younger girls. It turned out to be a good night, cleavage and all.