Does Teen Girl Drama Really Start at 3… or Am I Just Blessed?
Y’all, I need answers. Does the whole teen girl drama thing really start at thirteen, or is my house just the test site for the preschool edition? Because here, it started at three. And not “three going on four” — no, three going on thirty, with a side of “watch me roll my eyes so hard they might get stuck.”
It all began in Preschool 2’s, when Jessica — my precious, sweet, still-wears-pig-tails Jessica — stood in her closet one morning and declared, “My clothes are not fancy enough to wear to school.” Apparently, other girls were wearing princess dresses and heels, and she wasn’t about to be outdone. I was still trying to keep up with which shoes had Velcro and which had laces, and she’s informing me that her outfit does not “have enough sparkle.”
Then the preschool 3’s hit for both girls and suddenly they could not leave the house without mascara and lip gloss. Mascara. At age 3.
In Preschool 4’s, Jessica came home one afternoon and very seriously informed me I needed to shave her legs. Why? Because some friends told her that her “hairy legs looked like their dad’s.” I choked on my coffee.
And now? Oh, honey. We are deep in the friendship politics.
“Katie says she’s not going to be my friend if I don’t let her borrow my bracelet.”
“Jill’s not my friend anymore — she wants to play with Nancy.”
“Everybody hates me - No one wants to play with me.”
Don’t forget the classics:
“I’m bored.”
“That’s disgusting!”
“If you don’t let me do this, I won’t talk to you anymore.”
And my personal favorite: “I’ll pack my stuff and leave!”
Ma’am… you are four. Where exactly are you going? And how are you getting there? Uber Jr.?
At this point, I’m seriously considering a fine system for every eye roll, loud sigh, “whatever,” “I don’t care,” and unprovoked foot stomp. By my calculations, I could fund a year-long trip to Disney — park hopper passes, churros, and Mickey ears included — just off preschool attitude penalties.
So mamas, please tell me I’m not alone in this. Bring the wine and ice cream. We’ll sit on my back porch and reminisce about the days when their biggest drama was who got the sippy cup with the blue lid.
XOXO
With Love from my little drama factory here just outside Atlanta, where the sweet tea is strong, the sass is stronger, and the porch lights stay on for emergency mom meetings.
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