why the next one will NEVER learn the words “designer clothing”
Posted: July 19, 2006 Filed under: Uncategorized 7 Comments »Conversation at 1 pm with my mother-in-law
HER: I am just really disappointed in how ungrateful he’s being. He didn’t even say thank you for taking him to Vinnie’s. He didn’t even say, "Thanks, Grandma, for walking up there in this heat." Nothing. And that’s not the GMB I know at all. It makes me a little mad and a little sad.
ME: I have a lot of sympathy for what he’s going through with all this two house/two city stuff, but there’s really no excuse for being an ungrateful little brat.
HER: (stifling her overhwhelming need to say that he is a perfect angel child not a brat) You’re right.
ME: If he is going to act like this, I really think (and I turned while driving to actually look her in the eye here) that you need to not buy him anything else or do any other nice things like that for a while. I mean, you should still see if he wants to go to museums and stuff with you, but don’t do him any favors or buy him anything if he’s not going to be grateful for it. I know you want him to be happy and you want to fix the bad mood, but it just reinforces that brat behavior.
HER: You are really right. (looking abashed and reformed) I really shouldn’t do that. You’re totally right.
Fast forward to 6 pm
Grandma and GMB stumble in from 4 hours of shopping and extensive very hot subway-riding (lots of trouble because of power shortages and outages) and two or three Armani/Armani Exchange stores in totally different parts of Manhattan. GMB is the EXTREMELY proud owner of an Armani tank top and an Armani Exchange t-shirt. He is now pleasant as punch.
Note: There is absolutely no likelihood that the next one will make it to adulthood without knowing about designer clothing. Even if I can reign Wes in, my sister lives in Brooklyn now…..
Next one. Excellent positive thinking there, Bri.
What I find astonishing is that you are living with this – and you want a next one.
I really really hope you get one. Soon.
grrrrrrr! how very frustrating.
Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha. Not know the words “designer clothing”? That’s funny. I know you aren’t really kidding, but it’s still funny.
You know that I find nothing wrong with occasional designer clothes because I don’t even want to see them only wear Old Navy stuff (because the range is limited, especially for teen guys/men). But I have rules:
1. Not until the kid is a teenager.
2. The clothes must be on sale.
3. It shouldn’t be a regular thing.
4. The kid has to understand that designer and bargain stuff can be equally good and each item should be picked because it looks good, not because of the label.
Oooh – I remember the days when having a Huck-a-Poo shirt was The Only Thing I Wanted. And that $65 suede skirt? Had. To. Have. It. My mother put me on a clothing allowence (winter coat and undies not included) – and it worked. One skirt (see above) but it lasted for 15 years! That showed her…
Having said that, if I were ever forced to rear a child, they’d be making their own clothes out of potato sacks until they were old enough to earn money to buy better.
The classic conundrum…at what price pleasantness??? I know I will give in to the Junior Miss occassionally, just to buy some nice teenage girl. My parents did it too…it turns out they HATE mini golfing. But an hour of mini golfing could buy three hours of pleasant preteens, so that looks like a bargain sometimes.
Seeing as it is the 20th as I type this, happy birthday. Congratulations: you are now of the age when you can really lay the “oooh, when I were your age, whippersnapper” on with a trowel
Hope you have a splendid day, avec gateau et fun, peut etre un adult beverage or deux.
Cheers, Weasel.
Thanks, weasel!
I take some solace in the fact that this happened with a grandparent. No matter how much you try to make them behave, really, the fact of the matter is that all bets are off with a grandparent. They buy them stuff. Stuff they want. Stuff they want that you don’t want them to have (do you seriously think Grand Theft Auto would have entered my house in any other way?). There really isn’t all that much to be done about it.
After Wes typed that stuff last night, he was surprised that I didn’t get all angry and pissy. I just asked him if maybe, if we have a baby (hahahahahaha), maybe he might be willing to compromise since I didn’t agree.
He looked at me like I was speaking Icelandic and said, “Compromise… how?” as though this were the most impossible thing ever.
Sigh.