Springtime Rituals

Ah, it's that wonderful dreadful time of year again. I love spring, I check every day to see the progress of my spring flowers, play in the garden every warm day, start greening up the lawn, thinking about bbq's and friends, the sound of children's laughter, everything is wonderful. Except for one day- swimsuit shopping with my teenage daughter.

I remember in the good old days ( before middle school ) when swimsuit shopping consisted of finding a cute little swimsuit with her current favorite Disney character on it and putting it in her Easter basket. She was always so excited, the Easter bunny knew her so well, and she would put that little swimsuit on and play dress up in it for the month or so before it was actually warm enough to wear it outside, sometimes she even slept in it.

Not anymore. As soon as it's warm enough that my thoughts turn to gardening, her thoughts turn to swimsuits and boys. How did this happen? Why doesn't she still think that Prince Charming is who she is going to marry instead of that boy who's hair is always in his eyes and needs a belt?

So, today we are off to the mall, as soon as she is finished showering and primping, to find this years must have swimsuit. My must have and her must have are very different so this is not always a pleasant shopping experience. For instance, my must have is it must cover all parts of you that only your gynecologist should be familiar with, her must have, it must be small enough to serve as dental floss in a pinch.

The only ace in the hole I have anymore is " What do you think your father will say about that?" Because all though she thinks I am hopelessly old fashioned and will tell me that the other girls wear less than that to school, she would never dream of saying that to Daddy.

She is still Daddy's little girl and she doesn't want him to be disappointed, so she will put the dental floss back and get something a little less revealing, but not before trying to talk me into one swimsuit for our house and one for Daddy's. There will be no Disney characters, maybe some skulls or something else equally traumatizing to her mother.

It will start out fun but after about fifteen minutes of, " no sweetie, not that one, ummm, nope, not that one either" and a few shoves back into the dressing room before anyone sees her half naked, she will be mad enough to spit nails because I never let her buy what she likes, and I will be wishing that I had taken my doctor up on her offer of pharmaceutical help to get through my daughters teenage years.

Ah, wonderful springtime. Maybe I should have a glass of wine before we go, I'll certainly need one after!