Darling P,

I so thoroughly enjoy your predicament.  Although I never want to be  a friend to my children, I always secretly believed they adored the fact that I was slightly cooler than all those “other” women wearing, as I overheard one daughter tell it, pants near their belly buttons.    Who knew it was possible, perhaps truly fated, that I would embarass with the exact opposite problem: a near constant and inappropriate baring of the midriff?  The consequences, I fear, may now haunt me for the entirety of my elder daughter’s teenage years.

You see, P, I recently indulged in a little belly dancing birthday party with dear friends and found myself sashaying all over the house practicing the moves.  Elder daughter,  although visibly patronizing and slightly horrified by my repeated attempts to show her the walking single hip shimmy, only really lost her cool when her father suggested I needed some other moves to accompany same (picture hip thrusting in another direction).  Daughter had the look on her face of a girl who may be unable to form any kind of intimate relationship with anyone for at least another ten years.  So, in fact, I was thrilled that the trauma of her parental encounter (who does like to think about THAT?) may dissuade her from offering her wares to ANYONE any time soon.

BUT, and I hope you’re keeping up, b/c this tale is rather lengthy and a little convoluted–there’s more.  Daughter disappeared into her room to try on her Indian princess Halloween costume.  Now, you cannot possibly know that the original costume I ordered, on the Tuesday b/f Halloween, btw, was out of stock.  It was made for “tweens” and appeared very modest and appropriate for girls our daughters’ age.  The only possible replacement was a ladies size 3.  I was a desperate woman b/c my girl failed to choose costumes until the 11th hour.

Back to the night b/f Halloween night: daughter emerged from her room screaming the dress was “too big” and “needed immediate attention.”  As I was by now rocking younger daughter to sleep in the midst of a mild illness, I told her to go see our wonderful babysitter/seamstress (my saving grace).  After a few minutes, the lovely woman appeared, concern creasing her brow and asking whether it was “ok” to modify the costume as daughter requested.  I was, frankly, a little annoyed by the interruption and told her to do whatever she wanted.  Big mistake.

Halloween morning daughter bounded out of her room looking like, according to her father, a slutty Indian princess.  I asked whether she could sit down or bend over without revealing, well, things that are often revealed when things are too short or too tight.  Her response was, “Can you?”  She was, naturally, escalated to a “2 out of 3″ on our “grounded from an upcoming event” scale.  I told her, pretty calmly, that she had to wear something under the costume to avoid being indiscrete.  I do think we have all experienced this kind of thing and know it takes a little experience to know when something is appropriate (or not). You probably already know that I haven’t fully mastered the lesson but are kind enough, unlike my daughter, not to remind me incessantly.

I guess my point, dearest P, is that the twins will soon enough likely be just like my elder daughter: they will dress just like their mum and have much less moral authority in these matters.  And certainly, we should all be grateful for that, right?

C.

P.S.  And yes, of course, hubby has asked me to consider making the tarty Indian princess my costume after all the parties…Sigh…