Instead of being bombarded with ridiculous requests of ear piercing, hair dying and those damn Bratz dolls, we've instituted a brilliant avoidance tactic. She can engage in what we deem as "mature activity" or really, stuff we think no four year old should have her hands on, when she can drive.
We figure, if she still wants to purchase all sorts of whore-like, leopard print bra-wearing baby dolls and dye her hair platinum blonde when she's 25 (the legal driving age we're hoping they institute by the time she becomes a teenager), then she can feel free to do so.
It's become the quick and effective solution for most dilemmas in our household, particularly when the long winded answer we probably should give her involves us explaining society's ridiculous stereotypes and oversexualization of young girls.
And it's just a way better answer to the whole "But so-and-so has one, and her mom lets her" statement than "Well, we don't care what so-and-so and her mom does. We're your parents and we care about you. And just because they're wearing Cavariccis and Outback Red doesn't make them any better."
To think I'd be begging to wear that shit.
What's interesting is that she's already figured out what's off limits just based on what we've already banned to driving age. In fact, she added Hannah Montana all on her very own.
And so, we'll continue on with our perfect little scheme as long as we can, which will be when she figures out that she won't be driving next year.
Basically, we've got another good month until we're busted.
[My deepest thanks for your comments on my post yesterday. I cried, I nodded, and I smiled. And most importantly, I didn't yell.]