Last night we were sorting through stuff to sell at the jumble sale at the International School. Valentine came into my room with a pile of clothes.
"That's the stuff you want to sell, sweetie?"
"Yeah"
I took the top item of the pile- a red, white and black striped shirt that had been a gift.
"You don't like this?" I asked innocently.
"It's fine, " she responded. "if you enjoy wearing loser-ific clown suits."
Ouch. Deadly, searing, venomous sarcasm. Guess I do have a teenager on my hands. Valentine is usually very sweet, but she has occasional bouts of extreme puberty.
I have to say that I laughed like mad and wrote on the price tag "Loser-ific clown suit: 300 fcfa".

("Loserific"? Where does she get this stuff? She never watches TV. On the weekends she gets to watch a couple of dvds, parentally approved. Her friends are ALL non-english-speaking. Maybe hormones alone can cause you to invent completely new words.)

The sale was this morning. It's not actually a sale, but more of a junk re-distribution program for the expat community. Your kids sell their old Polly Pockets, then promptly go buy somebody else's old Polly Pockets. It's dead clever, really.

This year I managed to actually make money, which is ostensibly the point of the whole excercise. Looks like we'll be going out to lunch for Mother's Day tomorrow!

BTW- The shirt is still with us. Apparently no loser-ific clowns came to the sale this year.