Sharing Your Social Trauma with the Girl Scouts

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I admit it.  I’m a progressive mom, which to me means I let my kids butter their bread a little too early in life and I turn a blind eye at tasteful raunchiness in PG-13 movies.  So when we decided to make our recent social trauma a “Teachable Moment” at home, my husband and I thought we were being quite modern.  The next day, my budding girl scout greeted me at pickup with a gaggle of her blue-aproned friends.  “Mommy! Tell the Daisies how you were left out of your friend’s New Year’s party and then found out the next morning on Instagram!!!”  Troop 10000016 (or something like that) paused at the red steel door, handle pumped forward but on hold, their attention rapt alongside their mothers’ curious stares, awaiting my answer.

“That’s a private moment,” I explained, my mouth frozen in a joker-like grin.

“Awwww,”  came the Daisies mother’s sad but genuine clucking.  It was then that I realized none of these women had been invited to the New Years party because none of the friends I’d chosen in my town were Daisy-like.  If the New Years party had been thrown by a Daisy mother, I would have surely been invited, given a taco and beer, and a pink pity petal on my way out.

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