Hank’s dog collar was on the verge of breaking. We had to run out this morning to get milk from the store so we stopped by the pet store first.
“We need to get a collar for Hanky. Should we get blue, orange, or green?” I asked holding out the three choices.
“Well, I don’t know if Hank wants a pink collar. How about red?”
We perused the collars for the next few minutes, Abigail clutching a pink collar suited for a chihuahua.
“What about this one with blue AND green?”
“No! Pink pink!”
“Skull and crossbones?”
“Here’s a spikey one!”
Abigail begins to do the toddler knee bend cueing up the onset of a tantrum…
“NOOOOOOOO!” And higher pitched, “PIIIIIINK Hank pink one!”
So a whopping $8 later we were headed home with a hot pink collar in tow.
Parenting lesson #6,289: If you care about what kind of collar your dog is going to wear, don’t take a 2 year old with a penchant for pink.
Me? I didn’t really care. Learning to take turns? Sitting at the table for a family meal? Brushing your teeth before bed? Buckling up in the car? Those are battles worth the fight.
“Here Hank! Here’s your college!” she ran in proud as can be to show him.
All that mattered to Hank was that he got a new nylabone. Newfoundland “colleges” don’t really make much of a statement anyway as they are covered up with floofy hair.
“Real men wear pink…or so they tell me.” Hank