Life

It was, as predicted, a tense, unhappy experience. Three hours of a Saturday afternoon standing in Party City with M, trying every strategy in the book to help her choose--including not helping her choose. (L found his pink princess dress in about ten seconds, accessorized with a blonde Hannah Montana wig and a furry crown, and was ready to leave.) She reduced the picks to two costumes--both of them short pirate dresses (which I will make her wear with leggings)--and when we got to the front to pay for the one she'd picked, she wobbled again, in tears, uncertain this was the right choice.

In the car, later--after I'd cooled down--I tried to get at what was so hard for her. "I know you don't like it!" she cried. "Honey, I'd have you in princess dresses until you're 30--it's not about what I like. It's about what YOU like," I said. "I like princess dresses, too," she wailed. "I'd LOVE to wear a princess dress, but the kids at school would laugh at me."

Ah.

"Honey," I tell her, "somebody's going to laugh at you no matter what you choose. Kids laugh--it's part of the wiring at this age. So you may as well choose something that YOU really feel good about--not something that you think everyone else wants you to wear."

(It contrasts with Liam's gleeful attitude: he can't wait to put on that pink dress--can't wait to make the villagers laugh. He's been blessed with that hard wiring.)

She gets home, tries it on, feels better about it. Gets excited about it, even. Calls her Dad this morning to tell him about it, he puts his girlfriend on the phone, and girlfriend laughs at the costume.

Jay-sus.