Maggie’s 13-year-old babysitter has been coming to play. It’s a way to get her engaged with another “kid” who can be a friend to her without the noise and stickiness of someone her own age, and it lets me off the hook for an hour. The sitter has cotton-candy pink hair (I hear it will be peach quite shortly) and otherwise looks/dresses like Jane Lane from Daria. Basically, she’s cooler than I ever could have hoped to be as a teenager. Her hair was darker blue last time Maggie saw her, so when she walked in today Maggie gasped audibly.
“YOU. You’re…YOU’RE LOVELY.” And then kept whispering “You’re so beautiful. I love you.”
Come for the paid gig, stay for the self-esteem boost. And I suspect by the time we hit 18 with Maggie, we’ll have bought a Hot Topic’s worth of Manic Panic hair dye.