I’m not above using my toddler’s clothes to proclaim my–our–family values or political leanings. The way I see it, if it’s okay for kids to wear jerseys designating daddy’s favorite professional athlete who may one day end up splashed across papers for passing an std onto a minor during a raging coke-fueled night in Vegas, it’s perfectly fine for me to dress my daughter in her President Poopyhead tee.
I’d like to think that I’ve got a sense of humor, as do most of us I presume, when it comes to The Ironic Tee, (T.I.T.?), Official Garment of The Hipster Parenting Movement. I can muster a chuckle when I see a kid’s tee proclaiming boo f*cking hoo or anarchy in the pre-k, even if I wouldn’t buy it myself. But sometimes I wander into a kids’ boutique and come across a design that just calls to my inner sanctimommy and her wagging finger of doom. This is the kind of item that makes me want to track down the designer, the boutique buyer, and then all parents who have actually purchased such a garment, corral them into a circle, put my arms around them, pull them close…then knock their foreheads together hard and scream ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME? After which I’d make them write I do not actually want my child to be a future diva/pimp/trophy wife 100 times in soap across the windows of their mini vans.
A couple weeks ago, I believe I found the shirt that tops them all.
I caught this one in an “if you have to look at the price tag, you can’t afford it” kids boutique in LA, where there was an entire rack of 0-24 mo jeans in the $180 range. Which I only mention as evidence of the adage that money does not buy taste.
(Izzy, I hope you’re sitting down for this one.)