So, Pik is having a bad day. You know the kind. (In the words of Nicole Kidman’s dead soldier-husband in The Others, “Sometimes I bleed…”) And my Pik is not one to suffer in silence. I don’t know where that comes from. Must be her dad’s side. Anyway, this morning, she’s moaning about the various hardships in her life.
Pik: “I can’t predict the weather! Too hot for pants. Too cold for shorts.”
Me: “How about capris?” I’m very helpful that way.
“I’m too bloated!” she wailed. “I can’t get into them!!”
I’m feeling a touch smug, reveling in the crone-zone, glad to be done with that business. But still sympathetic, of course. Of course!
“Plus,” she added, “I’m out of my favorite tampons! Now I have to use the gross cardboard kind!”
Me: “Please. That’s the only kind I ever used.”
Pik: “Well, Mom, come on. You are a little… looser… than me.”
The image of a flag, flapping in a brisk breeze, pops into my mind. Poof. Sympathy gone.
“I meant,” I said, “that’s what I used… when I was your age.”
Pik: “Oh.”
Conversation over. Have a Happy Period. Suckah!
Love Notes from the Lake
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Advice from a mucholdercronewhoremembersinadequatepads… never give advice to a teenager/YA about clothes. Waste of time. incapable of listening – that age group is still rather narcisstic by nature… it will get better. Turn the music up louder – you know – that old rock and roll piece you can dance to.
90% of the time it’s amusing, plus, she knows Moms Who Blog get ultimate revenge! :)