Since before Walker and I even had children, we had a bit of a disagreement about one thing.
I thought baby girls with pierced ears are about the cutest things in the whole wide world.
Now, chances are, you don't either. Here in the Lone Star State, it has a bit of a stigma. If you are from an ethnicity that makes incredibly good food, you can puncture your baby before the cord falls off and no one with think a thing of it. If you are a white girl, of which I am, well.
Piercing your baby's ears is akin to taking your children barefoot to WalMart while you wear white shoes after Labor Day.
My mother has only threatened to cut me out of the will twice - for naming my daughter Daisy (which I still think is cute), and for piercing my baby girl's ears.
What can I say - there is a woman inside of me called Daisy who loves pork rinds, has a tattoo, and thinks newborns with earrings are darling. (But even Daisy won't wear white shoes after Labor Day.)
After Eva Rose was born, I gave Walker one more chance before we left the hospital, at which point he threatened to take the children and move in with my mother and claim the full inheritance.
Until one day we were at a birthday party and a little blond haired, blue eyed 18 month old toddled around, and Walker looked at me and said, "Her earrings are SO CUTE!" and then proceeded to talk about it the rest of the day.
HelLO! I have been TELLING you it's cute!!
At that point, it was too late. Both our girls were past the magic window of opportunity and well into the ripping-cartilage stage.
Walker, however, was obsessed. As soon as he felt Eva Rose was old enough, which was last year, he took her down to Claire's and got them pierced.
Problem was, she wasn't completely on board. I wasn't completely on board either, simply because I didn't think it was fair that she got her's pierced without even asking when I had to beg consistently for the better parts of 1976, 1977, and 1978 before my mother acquiesced.
Daddy was put in charge of the cleaning and twisting. Hence, one got very infected. I made the mistake of taking it out. When I tried to re-insert it, she became possessed by the Spirit of Resistance which presents itself with kicking, screaming, and primal gutteral noises. Now I'm no certified exorcist, but I know when to back off. The other one was removed also.
It's become The Unfortunate Ear Piercing Incident About Which We Do Not Speak.
For her birthday, after getting very dolled up with her BFF Kinley at Little Diva's,
Eva Rose got to choose some gifts at Claire's, aka, Little Girl Nirvana. She really wanted some clip-on earrings. Knowing they would be lost before we left the parking lot, I tried to steer her towards other treasures, which all resembled every accessory I ever owned in the 80s. She would not be dissuaded.
Every pair of earrings she liked was pierced.
And then she said it: "I think I want to get my ears pierced."
"Are you SURE? You're SURE? Are you really really SURE?" I asked, at least 17 more times.
I presented my ID and signed the 14 official documents required for my daughter to get her ears pierced. She hopped up in the chair.
She was sure.
Not so sure about round two.
Not so sure when it was over.
But when she looked at the earrings that she will get to wear in six weeks,
Very, very sure.