“That looks stupid.” 

I actually said those words to my seven-year-old daughter before I could stop them from flying out of my mouth. We had an event to attend with people we hadn’t seen in a long time and I really wanted everyone to look their best. But my daughter was insistent on wearing this tacky, hideous headband that she’d fished out of a prize box at the dentist. Or maybe she’d taken it home as a party favor or collected it from some other childhood event that supplies you with all the ugliest crap you never wanted. 

So instead of acting like a self-actualized adult, I went in for the kill. Straight for her looks - the jugular of girlhood - and one area I swore I’d never touch. You know how you have those things that screwed you up as a kid that you promise on all of the holy things that you won’t repeat? This was (one) of mine. And I regurgitated it like I hadn’t had thirty plus years to digest it.  

I mean I tried to be the good mom when she first appeared wearing the offending accessory. I utilized all the respectful parenting techniques when my patience was still intact. I gave her options of other sequin-free hair pieces. I offered to put her hair in a braid or bun or another style that rational people wear. I asked her if she could accessorize with the flair of her choice the following day and just do me this one favor. But instead she stomped around the house like an enraged elephant until we were late and my head was about to actually pop off. She was hurt that I was challenging her right to fashion independence and I was angry that I wasn’t in control. And so I said “it,” just as a child would. To my child. Then after I simultaneously stunned and gutted her, she yelled “FINE!” back at me and gave in. It was done. She looked cute and sane and I, of course, now had a classy child, not one of those sparkle and shine heathens. 

My outburst was never spoken of again.