We’re in Sam’s Club loading up on crap we don’t need when Rosie starts running for the book section. “Hey Mama,” she yells. “I’ll be right back. I want to get that Fifty Shades of Grey book.”
I immediately started to scan the crowd to make sure that A) no one heard her and B) that there wasn’t anyone around that knew me before I started to panic. Rosie’s a teenager now so I’m sure someone told her all about Fifty Shades of Grey. Especially since they just cast that total hottie in the lead role for the movie. But, she absolutely, positively cannot read the book. It’s definitely not appropriate for a 13 year-old. I had a few seconds to make a decision on how to handle the situation. Unfortunately, my feet were frozen to the floor.
I only read about half of the first Grey book. I couldn’t make it all the way through it because it was so poorly written. I’ve joked that a 7th grader could write a better book if they had all that sexual knowledge (which some might, but my child doesn’t). And, as I was sitting there sweating at Sam’s, I was 100% certain that I created this problem for myself. Rosie probably overheard me talking about the book last week as I was posting Calvin Klein ads on my Facebook wall. It was another mother of the year moment.
Cautiously, I began to wheel my cart over to the book section. I was still pretty unclear how I was going to handle the situation but I had a few options. The first was to scream like a Banshee when she picked the book up telling her, “NOOOO!!! It’s smut and you will be scarred for life!!” The second option was to “accidentally” ram my cart into the book section and then tell my kid to “carefully saunter away without touching a single book so no one thinks it’s us.” The third option (the mature one) was to explain why the book wasn’t a good fit for her right now and direct her to a more appropriate choice (of course that one would get an eye roll but I was cool with that.)
Despite the unfortunate (and somewhat confusing) title, Rosie chose a New York Times Bestseller about the genocide of the Baltic people. It was not only a good choice it was an admirable one. And, a book that even I’d want to read because it’s well-written.
As we wheeled the cart back to grab some lunch meat, I felt a sigh of relief. I dodged another parental bullet and didn’t need to have a difficult and uncomfortable conversation. But more than that, I knew I’m really doing something right as a mother. My child makes intelligent choices. And, that makes me proud.