Thinking Pink

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.

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