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The Limo Ride

“If you do that now then what do you have to look forward to when you’re older?”

I find myself saying this a lot lately to my 14-year-old daughter as we continually butt heads over the trickle-down nature of childhoods today. 

You know, the need for kids to do things younger and earlier than we ever did. 

Like 7-year-olds getting pedicures, spa days and makeovers. (Just what exactly are they making over?!) Or 10-year-olds hosting parties at South Beach clubs and attending rock concerts. 

Why the rush to grow up?

For the past decade, I’ve managed to fend off my daughters’ requests for limo rides celebrating birthdays and other important occasions. Something about rows of 6-year-old girls sipping bubbly apple juice while cruising around Miami in a stretch Hummer limo didn’t set well with me. 

For the record, I didn’t get my first limo ride until my wedding day.

But I grew up in another time and place, where luxuries like that weren’t so plentiful. Not like Miami, where stretch limousine sightings are as common as cockroaches.

Still, I surprised myself when I agreed to let my kid join more than 20 other girls and boys in a super-long limo for the eighth-grade prom. 

This is how I convinced myself: It was only 15 bucks per kid …  and I’d much rather her ride to prom in a large group than sit in the back seat of a car in a strange one-on-one with her “date.”

“Pick your battles,” a wise former boss once told me. 

So I said no to the after-party and yes to the limo. 

And postponed my Waterloo for another year.