|actual shirt, in an actual Children's Place.|
Hey, you! Are you buying that shirt for your kid? Yeah, the one Children's Place put right in the front of the store?! Guess what? It ain't cute. I mean, aesthetically it is, but. You don't know what "aesthetically" means? Then swing by Books-a-Million and pic up a dictionary.
This is the deal. If you buy that shirt - and I'm not leaving until you're done shopping - I'm going to take your kid. I mean it. I will take your daughter and raise her as my own, because you, madame, are too stupid to be trusted with life. Actually, my plan is to drop your kid off with a couple of meth addicts I know, cause I'm really curious if they can do a better job raising her than you. They may forget to feed her for a couple days, but they'll never do something as horrible as buy her this shirt! And I don't care if it's on sale! The messages it sends are terrible. What are you trying to raise? A rich housewife or an even richer divorcee? Either way, they both end up sad, pickled, and full of regret. Of course, the regret we'll never see because her face will be so pulled back - like a midget tugging on her cheeks - that absolutely no emotion will be visible.
Seriously, lady. The GAP is right next door, and they've got some really nice t-shirts. Beige, purple, a sun-faded pink. Go crazy. The world's your oyster. And on sale, too. I admit, they're probably made by children just like ours, but at least no will want to kill you for taking her out like that. I know this is harsh, but I only want to help. Think about it: our two children may be in class one day, and I'd hate for the learning to be slowed down for mine just so the teacher can spend extra time with yours. This, dear, is the meaning community. Pitch in or get out.