Fashion Police

Sea Monkey, “Mom, don’t you think it’s a bit chilly to be wearing open toed shoes?”

“I’ll be fine.” Because honestly, I get a pedicure maybe once every six months, and I got one two days ago, so darn it, I’m showing the toes off even if I get frostbite. (And it’s been plenty warm for open toed shoes. Low seventies.)

Sea Monkey, who, bear in mind, is six, harumphs. A few minutes later, she says, “I know you don’t really have a baby in your belly.”

I cock my head to the side and look at her, not entirely sure where this is going. “No, I don’t. No more babies for me.”

Sea Monkey nods seriously. “Right. That shirt just makes it look like you do.”

“Jeez, thanks.” Seriously, I felt like I was back in high school, with my mother saying, You’re going to go out wearing THAT?

Sea Monkey takes the hint from the look on my face. “No, no. The shirt is nice. It’s very… white.”

“Not making things better, kid. You might want to stop talking now.”

“It’s just big.”

“Just stop talking.”

“Yes, Mama.” But I guess she couldn’t resist the temptation to make her point perfectly clear, so she came up to me, gave me a hug, and my belly a pat. “See, no babies in there.”

Thanks kid.


2 thoughts on “Fashion Police”

    1. Yeah, I really liked her comment, “It’s very… white.” That’s when I knew precisely what she thought of my shirt. It wasn’t frumpy! Oy, that child will be the death of me.

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