LAURA SNYDER: Ear-Piercing Is Almost Rite of Passage
My daughter watched as I put on my earrings.
"Mommy, can I get my ears pierced?"
"Does it hurt?"
I eyed this little girl who thought that losing a tooth was grounds for a hospital visit.
"Yes, it hurts."
"Well, how much does it hurt?"
Oh, heck. I thought I had a few more years before we'd have this conversation. I was just getting over the multitude of vaccination events I'd been through. I wanted to put off ear-piercing as long as I could.
"Remember the time you were hula-hooping, tripped over the cat and fell into the rosebush?" I asked.
"It hurts like that," I said.
"Well...I guess that didn't hurt that bad."
"You wouldn't have said that back then. You were screaming like a banshee."
"Well, there were a lot of stickers in my bum. If I got my ears pierced, there'd only be two and they'd be in my ears."
"True." I couldn't argue with that logic.
"Will you take me to get my ears pierced?"
I sighed. She must really want to do this if the rosebush scenario didn't put her off. "If you still want to do it on Saturday, I'll take you."
On Saturday, my daughter asked if she could still get her ears pierced.
"Are you ready, then?"
"I might not be ready yet." she said. "But can we go look at the earrings?"
She wanted to build the dream, I thought. That's good. So we went motivational window-shopping for earrings. She found a pair that looked like a giant rainbow-colored dust speck from "Horton Hears A Who," magnified to show detail. Interesting choice, I thought.
"Can we buy them?" she asked.
"We'll buy them after you get your ears pierced." It was not a done deal, in my mind. This little filly could spook at any moment and I knew it.
I wondered if it was possible to do both ears at the same time. I was pretty sure that once that first ear was pierced, she'd see the error of her thinking and nothing on God's green earth would convince her to do the other ear.
The next evening I asked if she was ready yet. She put one finger in the air, took a deep breath and said, "Yes!"
Nope, I thought, it ain't happenin' today. I took her anyway. She insisted.
In the car, I could hear her talking to herself. "I can do it! I'm brave like Kim Possible. I will not be beaten!"
We walked into the store, and I told the lady at the counter that my daughter wanted her ears pierced. She was very nice. She took the time to show my daughter exactly what was going to happen by demonstrating on a teddy bear. As soon as my daughter heard the click in the bear's ear, she bolted for the door.
With an apologetic look toward the piercing lady, I left the store in pursuit of my daughter who was, by then, in tears. "Why'd she have to do that to that sweet little teddy bear?"
At a serious loss for words, I stumbled through an explanation. "She was tryingshowing you what she was going to dohow she would do itwith you. Idon't really think the bear minded." She insisted we go back the next evening, but we declined the teddy bear demonstration. We got so far as filling out the paperwork.
Before I was finished, I took one look at her face and told the store clerk, "Nope, I don't think she's ready yet." My daughter looked relieved. After we'd left the store, I did the only thing that would save her from herself. I told her that we were going to wait until next year to try this again.
She didn't even put up a fight.
Contact Whispering Pines writer Laura Snyder at email@example.com. Visit her Web site www.lauraonlife.com for information about her books.
More like this story