Saturday blahs

I know a lot of really rich kids. Private school kids, West Village townhouse kids, their-own-bathroom-with-marble-tub kids.

I have to say though, that I’m not jealous of their weekend homes or their full tuitions paid to the best college their little brains will get them into.

I’m jealous of this little girl, Charlotte, because of her hairbows. She has like 100 of them. All the colors! Polka dots! Stripes! I remember being in 1st grade and desperately wanting pretty, puffy ribbon bows like all my friends. I couldn’t have them though so I used to take my carrot bag from lunch and fashion it into a bow, knotting it into my hair for the afternoon, like a tiny accessories MacGyver. I thought I was really clever. I didn’t understand until years later why my mom made me stop.

And now I spend my Saturday nights scooping Charlotte’s hairbows off her vast floor and clipping them onto her special bulletin board. And she doesn’t care about them.