Bump-Its and Bitchiness

You know those hair things that have been touted all over infomercials? They make your hair poof out toward the back of your head, like a mini beehive. They're called Bump-Its, and my 8 year old daughter Chloe became obsessed with them. I don't always claim to understand what drives my children's obsessions, but I am all for using them for bribing purposes.
A couple weeks ago she woke up and said, "Guess what Mom? Only 4 more days until you get paid and buy me a Bump-It like you promised." She'd been marking the days on her calendar with big X's, and knew that her prized possession was within grasp. And me, being a child of the 80s and a lover of all things Big and Over The Top, can appreciate her love for big hair.
I finally bought it for her - it actually comes in a box of 3 sizes. $5.99 at Walgreens only, good thing I waited until payday. She spent a good 2 hours in front of the mirror that night, trying on the different sizes and trying to determine which one made the biggest impact.
Just a few days later was her third grade class field trip that I agreed to help chaperone. Her outfit choice for the day? Skinny jeans, a leopard hoodie, a Bump-It, and a silk Hawaiian flower in the back of her hair. I called her my Little Wisconsin Snookie. I also showed up wearing an animal print top, teased hair, heels and blinged out jewelry. I think I was switched at birth with a baby from New Jersey. Somewhere, out there in Trenton, is a confused woman with straightened hair, minimal makeup and an outfit from Lands End.
After spending about 4 hours herding cats/chaperoning kids, I went back to work for awhile. Later that evening another round of Nighttime Chaos ensued. Dinner needed to be made, homework needed to be checked, etc. I was trying to get the kids into bed and coerce everyone into not screaming. Chloe kept trying to get my attention and I admit, I was distracted. I think I was trying to figure out why the dog had barf on it's chin and what that possibly meant for clean-up later. Anyway, in a fit of 8 year old rage, Chloe screamed "All you care about is your fake nails and your fake hair!!" I looked at her (and very maturely responded) "Fake hair? I'm not the one wearing a Bump-It!" She sneered, spun around, and left the room. And 3...2...1... door slam.