Don't Walk Beside Me and Make Me Look Like a Bad Parent...

Today I slept in. It happens. A lot. I like to say because I work late. That might be half the reason. The other half is likely that concept of avoiding work to begin with. Either way it leaves Grumpy in charge of seeing the child off to school. She lives too close to ride the bus so he has to take her. This gives him ample opportunity to look her over. At this point he can see if her ass is hanging out of her pants. Her D cups are hanging out of her shirt. Or the other little things that could cause a normal and attentive parent to pause. For instance, the fact that their teen daughter looked like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman before Richard Gere bought her a bunch of clothes.

So we go to pick her up at school and she walks out of the building. My mouth drops. The only words I can manage to release from my lips are What is the hell is she wearing? Of course if I were Simon Cowell it would have sounded better and included Bloody Hell, but you get the point. The following conversation ensued as she made her way to the car....

Me: What in the HELL is she wearing?
Him:  I dunno. Clothes?
Me: Does she have on a skirt?
Him: I don't think so. Just pants.
Me: Those are NOT pants
Him: What are they?
Me: They are leggings
Him: Hm, I thought they were pants
Me: When have you EVER seen me buy her spandex pants?
Him:  Well why does she have them?
Me: To wear under her little dress
Him: What is she wearing?
Me: A tank top with a crop top over it
Him: Hm, I didn't notice.
Me: Obviously. You get pissed because she has a boyfriend yet let her leave for middle school looking like she's working the corner.
Him: Well maybe you should pick out her clothes
Me: Maybe you should pay attention to what she's wearing?
Him: I thought it was the style
Me: To look like a prostitute?
Him: Well she's out of school. No big deal.
Me: Except we are going to Walmart. One camera and she will be online tomorrow.

Drama Queen proceeds to get into the car. I proceed to tell her how leggings are meant for under dresses. She tells me what about shirts. I point out that they mean long shirts. Like really long shirts. She shrugs and blows it off. I tell her she can't walk beside me in Walmart. I have no intention of those classy people judging my parenting.