Jake has moved on to a whole new level. Not with his tennis game, that Eric reports is awesome and merits private lessons. And not with Star Wars Battlefront II, which leaves me with daily headaches hearing the reports of his successes on Dantooie (sic). Jake has moved on to...Abercrombie.
Unless you have completely avoided the mall in the last two years or so, you know the store. Music blaring, scantily clad models' (of both genders) enormous photographs gracing the windows. And Old Navy quality polo shirts for $30.00. And two security guards at the door preventing "grab 'n runs", I assume.
Don't think I don't understand. I sooooo do. Having been known for a few years as one of the worst dressers in the class (the popular girls took up a collection to "graciously" buy me a ten-cent spirit ribbon), I am all for Jake having a few articles of clothing that keep you mainstream. It is just that it came quicker than I had anticipated, and it caught me by surprise that any clothes I was picking out weren't cool.
We were in the middle of one of those rare moments of you get with a boy. He was divulging his strategy for joining the current popular group of the fourth grade. I don't get those moments often, and this one presented itself at 6:00 in the evening, with Olivia a bit tired and dinner needing my attention. He admitted that he wore a certain jacket (Hurley, mind you) every single day because his shirts underneath the jacket were uncool. Uncool????? I could have beaten someone with the spatula I was gripping. "Who said that?" I demanded. He wouldn't tell me that, he felt it was unimportant. "Okay," I calmed down. "What is everyone wearing?" And he told me Abercrombie. "Well, we'll get you some," I promised him. He was greatly relieved, and absolutely floored when he saw that I meant NOW, THIS MINUTE. Are you kidding me? When your kid who rarely asks for much, tells you about something he needs to feel more confident, I am willing to get rabid. Like those moms a few years back in search of Cabbage Patch Dolls.
Eric rushed home (apparently also understanding the urgency) to watch Olivia, and we headed out to Boca's mall. And a mere hour and a half later we were toting Abercrombie bags containing a couple of polos, a tee shirt, and a new cap. He promised that just a few pieces were enough; he didn't want to all of the sudden look like he had rushed out and bought Abercrombie. Bonus was the hamburger at the food court, and I knew I had done the right thing as a parent. Because in the car, as we pulled up to the house, he said, "Thanks Mom, for really knowing what I meant."
Do you think this will work on Eric if I tell him all the really cool moms have new Louis Vuittons?