G Minus 8: The Best of Precocious Daughter

My Precocious Daughter graduates from high school (with honors) in eight days. She was nine years old when I started this blog. A baby. And now she's eight days away from officially being an incoming college freshman. In honor of this beautiful, smart young woman for whom I take no credit, I'll be posting some of my favorite posts about PDaughter between now and Graduation Day.

I Win the Bad Role Model Derby (W00t)

Originally Published 5/22/2012

I did it. I totally did what I said I was going to do.

Last night I bought my first e-cigarette.

Blu, not that I'm endorsing anything.

And I horrified, mortified, and angered my Precocious Daughter in the process.

As the kids say: W00t!

Why do they say it? I don't know.
I still say "groovy" unironically.

We were at the drugstore last night, buying a birthday card. At the checkout, I noticed a display of disposable Blucigs among the tobacco-and-tar cancer-sticks. Ten bucks. I've been waiting to shell out the $79 for the entire Blucig kit. I've been waiting to have $79 in my possession that isn't earmarked for milk or gasoline, frankly. But for ten bucks, my inner hipster screamed out that it was time to start vaping.

Look how adorable my inner hipster is!

So I asked the impossibly young dude behind the counter for one. And PDaughter looked at it as if he had just set a mutant alien tentacle in front of me.

Which is strange, because as a rule she's quite fond of the Ood.

Then she looked at me.

"What is that?"

What?

"Why are you buying that?"

Because I want to try it.

"I'm telling Daddy."

So? I'll tell him myself.

PDaughter fumed on the way home. I set the bag from the drugstore on the kitchen table and pulled out the card we had bought for our nephew to show Beloved Spouse. And then, with all the righteousness of a pissed-off tween, PDaughter reached into the bag, pulled out the Blucig, and marched it over to her father.

"Look at this!"

What's that?

"She bought an e-cigarette." (Imagine a tone implying that I had just purchased Jeffrey Dahmer's testicles in a jar as a memento.)

How much did it cost?

Me: Ten dollars.

At this point I could see BelSpouse reviewing nearly a quarter of a century of personal history and the various cockamamie things I've brought into our home during that time. Hermit crabs. Disco shirts. The entire recorded output of the Monkees. A ceramic planter shaped like a Basset hound.

BelSpouse really hates hermit crabs.
It's a bone of contention.

Finally he shrugged and said, "Give your mom a break. Let her have her fun."

PDaughter looked me and hissed, "You're a bad influence." And there was much eye-rolling and heavy sighing. I resisted the urge to stick out my tongue at my own daughter. Because I am mature, bitches.

HAAAA-ha!

Anyway, the verdict on vaping?

Love it. I sense a new bad habit sliding into my brain and making itself comfortable. Unless I get bored with it. Or something better comes along. Or I forget I even have an e-cigarette. Or I lose it. Or I decide I prefer vodka to nicotine after all.

PDaughter is giving me way more credit as a bad influence than I deserve. It takes a lot of dedication to be a negative role model. Look at Kanye. He is always on the job. Me? I go whole days without warping my child's sensibilities sometimes. I'm sort of lazy that way.

Plus, she's pretty scary when she goes all stern and disapproving on me. Thank goodness she's around to keep me in line.