Because I don't want them to grow up too soon (and because we actually own a little BBW stock), I encourage the doll playing, but strictly prohibit cosmetics.
But after a particularly long stretch of declining the girls' requests to have friends over (first the baby, then The Big Sick that overtook the house last month), I agreed to take the twins and three of their friends to the mall.
They squealed. They jumped up and down. They hugged me and told me I was the Best Mom Ever.
And then they hit me up for $50. Each.
I explained to them that going to the mall isn't necessarily about buying things. It's about spending time with your friends, sipping an Orange Julius and window shopping.
To that, The Deuce rolled her eyes and asked why would they possibly want to shop for windows.
$20 each. That was my offer. Take it or leave it. Despite the realization they would not get the shopping spree they envisioned, they accepted and we were on our way.
One by one, the girls' tweenie-bopper friends hopped into my van. And one by one, my jaw dropped a little more.
The first wore eye liner.
The second had her own cell phone.
And the third had talked her dad into letting her bring $50.
Being a conscientious, protective mom, I told them they could go wherever they wanted, but they had to follow these two simple rules:
- Stay together. No breaking off into groups of twos or threes. Travel as a pack.
- No major purchases. I introduced them to the correct definition of 'window shopping' and told them they were only to browse the coolest fashions -- not to go all Julia Roberts Pretty Woman on me. (This was statement was met with blank expressions.)
And so I tailed them, walking several feet behind and letting them go wherever they wanted. They meandered in and out of a few stores, then headed to the food court. They looked back and asked me what they could have for lunch.
"Whatever you want. You're buying," I said.
They huddled up and developed a plan: One of them would buy the 50 chicken nuggets for $10 deal at McDonald's, another would head to Mrs. Field's for a half dozen chocolate chip cookies. Another would spring for Icees. And yet another would get a double order of curly fries from Arby's.
The fifth one, and I forget who it was, was to get all the necessary straws and napkins and would find suitable seating. (Somehow she didn't have to buy any food. Go figure.)
They laid out the food court feast like it was Thanksgiving dinner. They complimented each other on their delicious lunch and inhaled it like a swarm of locusts.
After lunch, they wandered around, but stopped dead in their tracks when they saw a collection of coin-operated games. For the next 30 minutes, they dumped quarter after quarter into the machines, trying desperately to win a bunch of cheap crap.
Watching them at the crane game, I realized how young these little tweenie-boppers still are. Despite the make-up and the cell phones, they're still little girls at heart.
They groaned when I told them it was time to go. They begged for more time. For more quarters.
And as I dropped them off, one, by one. I was thanked profusely for taking them to the mall.
"Thank you, Mrs. W. Thank you so much!"
Their expression of gratitude also was a sign of their age. Going to the mall wasn't an expectation yet. For them, it was a treat. There had been no teen drama -- they hadn't even minded being tailed by a mom, hovering 10 feet away.
I know this will change in a few short years, but for now, I'll take it.
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