I firmly believe that Facebook is the digital version of a hellmouth, but sometimes it's someone else's version of the entrance to hell rather than mine.
I kind of love when that happens.
Which is all to say, I happened to click over at the exact right moment to catch the husband's worst nightmare coming true. A couple of old photos that included him were just sitting there, inviting me to mock them. So I did. Of course.
Along with the mocking came a moment when I thought I should share the joy. I summoned Alexis over, pointed to my screen, and said, "Hey. Look at that."
She looked then broke out in a grin. "Why haven't I ever seen that picture of me before?" she said.
"That's not you," I replied.
"Yes, it is," she said.
The conversation quickly turned into a tennis match with the kid repeatedly insisting that she was the little kid in the photo and with me proving that IT WAS IMPOSSIBLE THAT IT WAS HER. I pointed out her grandma in the picture, which did nothing to convince her because she didn't believe me that she was looking at her grandma.
Which, fine. Grandpa, then. Let's discuss grandpa.
She agreed that it was him in the photograph, but "he's really super young" in it. The kid has a 100% in math right now, but apparently she still can't figure out some basic addition. If Grandpa was young, she had to be negative young, right?
She didn't believe it.
It took most of the evening for Alexis to figure out that she was looking at someone else who happens to live in this house and not herself. When it finally dawned on her what was happening, her little brain exploded.
A clone. That's what she is.
For the record, Alexis was far from thrilled when I told her she would look just as much like her dad when she's 40 as she did when she was 3.
'Tis the season for store closings, I suppose, but I wasn't really expecting the flashback when I walked past a Deb Shop recently.
All of the stores. Closing. For good.
As Alexis and I walked past on our way to somewhere very different, the closing signs called out to me and whispered stories of days past. I wasn't much of a clothes person in high school, but that store was unavoidable. It most certainly represents everything early 90's.
I mean, I'm not sure they ever even updated their logo. The rounded neon pink name stayed so long it had become cool again.
I wish I could say the same for the store itself. As I flashed back to the Homecoming dress I bought from there, Alexis stared at me confused. I might have mumbled something about how that stupid velvet dress with the sequins and such was so poorly made that it started to fall apart even before I left Homecoming, which was about 10 minutes after arriving.
Dances were TOTALLY not my thing.
(Side note: there are no photos. Sorry. I actually wish there were because I bet my hair was HUGE that day.)
Still, that store was The Thing for a very long time, so I drug Alexis inside for a little history lesson.
It wasn't a hard lesson to lecture because even though it had been probably 20 years since I had sent foot in one of those stores (which, OMG. OMFG TWENTY YEARS.), not much has changed. The clothes are still poorly made, but more or less reasonably price, and very trendy. Too trendy, even, because I think your purchases look dated about 14 minutes after you walk out of the store.
Alexis was not impressed.
Alexis' reaction to the whole thing left me to wonder what the store of her youth will be. I think maybe Justice is dead around our house. It most certainly won't be in the picture for the teen years. But, what will be? I have no idea.
I hope whatever it is, the store manages to stay in business long enough for Alexis to drag her kids inside for a history lesson.