An Impromptu Lesson in McModesty

By Megan

Originally published at FriedOkra on November 5, 2008.

Bean and I went to McDonald’s this weekend for lunch last week, just the two of us. I got her a Happy Meal.

See, I’m doin’ everything I can lately to earn Good Mama points because frankly, I’m not a lot of fun to be around these days what with being completely exhausted, and I figure a few months of outright buyin’ her love with sugar, salt, fat, Disney TV and about 4 million rounds of Candyland at which I let her cheat blatantly and never ever say anything like, “BEAN! YOU CAN’T JUST DIG THROUGH THE STACK AND PULL OUT THE ICE CREAM FAIRY EVERY TIME. THAT’S NOT THE WAY YOU PLAY! FINE THEN, I’M NOT PLAYING WITH YOU ANYMORE! HMPH!” won’t kill either of us, and maybe it’ll hold my place in her heart for awhile so the real me can climb back in and reassume my old position when the steel rod finally comes back outta of my you-know-what and I can smile a smile at her that doesn’t look like there’s been a painful jolt of electricity and a couple dollops of rubber cement involved.

Anyway, the Happy Meal came with a miniature Barbie-ish doll wearin’ roller-skates, and this diminutive girl on wheels – a TOY, meant for CHILDREN, was proudly sportin’ what amounted to a molded plastic bra and the micro-est micro-mini I have ever lain my eyes upon. It was actually just a ruffled belt, truth be told. And she was also displaying both her carefully sculpted plastic belly button and about 9 miles of bare plastic leg.

(But don’t you just know that of COURSE she had on all of her safety equipment, includin’ her helmet and a pair of sassy kneepads, ’cause you know, safety first, y’all! We wouldn’t want to give kids a toy that might subliminally teach them roller-skatin’ without your kneepads (despite the fact that every other square inch of your body was exposed to God-n-everybody) was okay, would we?)

We were eatin’ our lunch sittin’ elbow to elbow with an older gentleman, and we’d been making polite banter with him for a few minutes by the time Bean pulled Skirtless Skatin’ Scandal Barbie outta her bag, and then all conversation came to a lung-deflating halt so the old man and I could do a pair of classic, sit-com quality double takes at this doll. By the looks of it, we were staring for entirely different reasons, though.

Grandpa! Put your eyes back in your head, man!

I grabbed Barbie out of Bean’s hands and looked my child straight in the eye and I leaned in close, “Bean, before you start playin’ with this doll, let me tell you sumpm. SHE DOESN’T HAVE ON NEEEEEEARLY ENOUGH CLOTHES. Her attire is COMPLETELY INAPPROPRIATE, and her Mama and Daddy would be horrified if they knew she was out in public lookin’ like that.”

The old man beside us then proceded to laugh so loud and so hard that I thought he was gonna fall off his McChair onto the floor leavin’ me no other option but to locate and deploy the McDefibrillator on him. Bean skated her doll around on the table a few times while she finished her lunch and then we said a polite goodbye to Grandpa and left.

A few days later, Bean’s preschool class had Pajama Day, and she got to go to school wearin’ her little The Children’s Place 100% cotton, 100% modest long-sleeved pajamas with the musical notes and ballerinas all over ’em, the ensemble complemented by her pink elastic-ankled fuzzy slippers.

As we were collecting her back pack and puttin’ on her coat that morning, on our way out the door to deliver her to school, Bean looked at me and worriedly wondered, “Mama! What is Daddy gonna say when he finds out I went out in PUGLICK in my bajamas? He’s gonna be horriblefied!”

At least I know she was listening, right?