Isabella (she’s 6) and I have separated ourselves from the herd at the shopping mall on Julianna’s birthday (now 9!) so we can get her some cool, sisterly birthday presents.
Iz: Oooo! Can we go there?! That looks like a girl’s store.
Isabella is pointing towards the Victoria’s Secret/Pink store.
Me: Um. Yes, that is most definitely a girl’s store. But, no. We’re not going there.
Iz (pouting): Why not? I saw Victoria’s Secret Angel Wings. Is it because you’re a boy?
Me: No. Because she is nine…
Me (continuing): When a teen-age boy sees a younger girl with “PINK” emblazoned across her ass, he is not thinking about the charitable contributions being made toward breast cancer research (a most Noble cause, by the way.)
I assure you. From personal experience. Pink means something else.
(Not an actual conversation, mind you. I’m not sure where my in-my-head and my out-loud voices end. But, you get the picture.)
Isabella: Ok, there’s the Hello Kitty store.
Me: Oh. Good…. Perfect.