Battle of the Bratz

Much like her mother, Sophie does not respond well to the word, “no,” particularly when the no is in response to a request for a new toy.

Soph has been BEGGING me for a Brat. Any kind of Brat. I realize that in the past I have been the most permissive parent in the land, but I’ve put my foot down when it comes to Bratz dolls. I know I don’t have to tell you that they look like little whores, and that the Baby Bratz are particularly offensive—you know that already—but let me just say that THEY LOOK LIKE WHORES AND THE BABY BRATZ ARE DOWN RIGHT PERVY!!

I tried to explain to Soph why I will not buy her a Brat (unlike her grandma, who bought her the sluttiest Baby Brat in the store.) I told her that I thought Bratz dressed way too sexy for little girls, and that little girls should dress like little girls and not play with toys that are sexy. This, of course, led to Soph asking me, “What’s sexy mom?” That one is almost as tricky as, “Who’s God mom?”

I tried to explain to her that dressing in clothes that show a lot of your skin or are very tight is sexy. Things went down-hill from there as she asked questions and I back-tracked, trying not to say that bodies are bad, or baths are bad or that even her nakey time is bad. I couldn’t very well say, “Dressing sexy means that you wear clothes that are designed to show your body in a way that turns people on physically,” could I? I mean, a four year old isn’t ready for even a way toned down “talk” of that nature, is she?

So now we’re having the discussion of what is and isn’t sexy, like, ALL THE TIME! No—mommy changing into her jammies isn’t too sexy. No, the baby in the diaper on TV isn’t too sexy. Yes, the girl jogging down the street in a sports bra and mini-shorts is kind of sexy, but exercise clothes are in kind of a different category.

I spent about one second trying to explain that sexy clothes aren’t bad, if you’re old enough and are wearing them in the right place and time, but that was going less than nowhere.

She’s also taking every opportunity to point out to me that “Bratz are nice mommy!” Any commercial, any time we accidentally walk past anything Brat related (There are Bratz fruit snacks for Christ’s sake!) at the store, she’s right there, pointing out to me that the Bratz are, in fact, wearing clothes, and “Look, that one isn’t too sexy mom.”

(Let’s not even start on the “z” instead of “s” that pluralizes “Brat.” Are these people trying to wreck both the moral and grammatical fiber of our young girls?)

Then, this morning, Erik called me at work to ask where the camera was/is/whatever. Well, it was/is in my purse. I guess Soph insisted this morning that if she was going to dress herself (a skill we’re working on—she can do it, but would rather sit limply and watch cartoons while Mom or Dad does it. My fault—I know) she should be able to pick out her own clothes. E said OK, and Soph announced, “OK then. Today I’m dressing like a BRAT!” Apparently the result was decidedly un-sexy (thank goodness) but also quite hilarious. From E’s description, I think she was trying to go for the current “leggings under a shirt/dress with a big belt and ankle-boots” look, and ended up with more of a “multi-colored sweat pants and socks and a big stained mermaid t-shirt with a brown crocheted scarf wrapped around it for effect plus some Strawberry Shortcake snow-boots” look. I told him to go ahead and let her wear the outfit she chose to school. All the Montessori stuff shoves “let the child do for him/himself” down my neck all the time (not that I don’t love it—I do) so I guess they can deal with the result of Soph “doing for herself” today.

Sheesh.

Today’s best thing about being a mom:

Ample opportunities for righteous indignation?

Today’s worst thing about being a mom:

Trying, in the face of, well, everything, to raise a confident, informed little girl, and still letting her be a little girl for as long as possible.