Rite of Passage
My baby got her ears pierced this morning. We had discussed it a few times over the past year or so. I didn't have it done when she was a baby because I figured, well, it's her body and she should be the one to decide if she wants holes in her head or not. I'm not planning to leave other decisions to her at this age, mind you. I think we'll mostly limit it to "what do you want to wear to school tomorrow?" and "do you want pancakes or waffles?" In any case, she decided she was ready for earrings so I took her to Claire's this morning (motto: ear piercing is free when you buy our outrageously expensive starter kit!). The main thing we had talked about in advance was that once one ear was pierced, she had to have the other one done. I had heard horror stories about kids freaking out after the first shot from the piercing gun and then refusing to endure another. She assured me that she was ready for the whole shebang. She picked out the Hello Kitty set.
Moments later, the tears were gone and I'd somehow agreed to buy her some lip gloss conveniently located at her eye level, right next to the cash register. She couldn't wait to go home and show her dad. "I bet he won't even recognize you!" I told her.
She has informed me that she is practically grown-up now because she has pierced ears, can tie her shoes, and, most importantly, can snap her fingers. "I still can't whistle, though," she said with a frown. So near and yet so far.
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