The Ghost of Immelda is Alive and Well

I'm here to report the ghost of Immelda Marcos is alive and well and dwells in my four-year-old.

Here's the most recent siting: At the mall, yesterday. I was trying to buy the girls a couple of cute matching shirts to wear to an event on Sunday. I don't often dress my kids to match, but we're going to a picnic with our agency and it's easier to spot my kids in a crowd if they're dressed alike. So, damn me for artificially "twinning" my girls in front of those social workers, but hey, all is fair in the execution of parental duties. However, I digress...just suffice to say, shoes were not on my shopping list.

Of course, we go into the Gap store at the local mall and happily find that it's mark down day. It was better than free ice cream on a hot day. La Nina decided my moment of distraction was the perfect time for a little shopping of her own. A few minutes go by and she appears holding a pair of shoes. Just between you and me, they were cute. Brown, sort of Mary Jane with a strappy sandal twist at the back. They were in her size, but they were $25.99 MARKED DOWN!

I calmly explained 'we weren't looking for shoes, but shirts and gee, honey, don't you just love this darling navy polo. It's just your size. ' She wasn't buying anything I had to sell and was intent on those damn shoes.

"Mom, I need these. I don't have any brown shoes," she countered.

"Honey, we're not getting shoes today. Last time we were at the mall you got two pairs, and those won't work for winter time. Sorry, but no."

"Aww...Mom. Please."

"Sorry, honey. No. You need to put them back now."

I go back to shopping. I've dispensed my parental command and it's mark down day! Wahoo! I have a good kid. She'll listen to me. I didn't think about the incident again, until a few minutes later, I spot La Nina and the shoes are still clutched in her fists.

"La Nina, put them back. We're not getting them."

Then she did it. She looked me in the eye, spun on her heal and marched to the counter to buy the damn shoes. Like she knows what the heck she is doing. Like she can even see over the counter. Like she has money!!! I'm thinking all of this and marveling at her guts. I'm also absolutely furious. But we're in a crowded store and I'm holding the trump card...or credit card, as the case may be. So, I know her mutiny is going nowhere.

So, the cashier looks her and asks, "Do you want to try these on honey?"

"No, I just want them," she answers.

About then I intervened "I'm sorry. We're not getting that today." The cashier peers over the cash register at La Nina and shrugs her shoulders. La Nina hangs her head in defeat.

My shopping expedition cut short by an act of grave rebellion, I hand the cashier the things I've gathered, pay and march Immelda and her sister from the store. I took away a few privileges and we discussed the virtues of minding your mother.

Here's my real worry. She's got half the buying experience down. And she's four. Heaven forbid she ever get a grandfather in a shoe store alone. 'Cuz they have the 'trump' cards too, and in that case, Immelda will reign supreme.