Reflecting back to when my daughter was 13, I found a snapshot in time which highlights all too well how a parent has to maintain a sense of humor to withstand their kid’s gritty honesty.
One weekday morning as my daughter and I were already running late, I searched for a pair of slacks to put on. I soon realized the pickings were slim, since the day prior I forgot to pick up my clothes from the dry cleaners. I selected a pair of slacks which I had not worn for quite some time. They were purchased some 6 years prior, and they appeared obviously dated. I suppose that’s the danger in reaching deep into a clothing rack.
My daughter commented on their color, not quite beige, not mustard, not brown— so hard to describe the hue.
With her head cocked at an angle, and a raised eyebrow, she pondered, “Are those new?”
“Good...I don’t like the color.”
Committed to my selection, I slipped the slacks on. Unbeknownst to me, her watchful eyes still scrutinizing my choice.
“Those pants make you look fat!”
“Maybe it’s because it has pleats in the front. Back then the style for slacks was like this.”
“I vow when I get older, never to wear anything so disturbing!”
That was enough confirmation for me to make another selection which met my teen’s approval. Playing in my head was the Beatle’s melodic, “I get by with a little help from my friends…” and in this case, most certainly, “I get by with a little help from my teen.”
Copyright © 2011 Ella Venezia. All Rights Reserved.
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