Patience, the long lost virtue?

I don’t live in an upscale neighborhood by any means. We’re certainly not slumming it, but the houses are modest (we even clean them ourselves) and the average car in the driveway is a Honda or Chevy. It’s your typical suburban subdivision really.

I trucked around the corner last night for my weekly grocery run at the good old H-E-B, and as I waited in the checkout line reading the latest on Britney’s addition, diet and custody woes, I looked up long enough to notice something out of place. It was a designer handbag haphazardly slung over the shoulder of what appeared to be a 12 year-old girl. And she wasn’t alone. Her whole group was toting bona fide, latest-style Coach bags.

I feel like I was pretty spoiled growing up. I was allowed and encouraged to join any sporting or art activity I wanted, my mom made my lunch through my senior year of high school (I love you mom!) and I definitely owned several pairs of colored Guess jeans in my day – complete with zippers at the ankles. But we’re talking $40 a pop here, maybe.

I didn’t even know what a designer handbag was back then. I didn’t get my first until earlier this year when my sweet husband surprised me with one as a reward for starting my own business. There’s just something so satisfying about working hard and treating yourself with a well-earned luxury like that.

Maybe it’s a sign of a parenting job well done by my folks. Or maybe it’s a sign of how quick kids are to grow up these days. Why are they in such a rush? Why are they indulging in the finer things in life at such a young age? Sure it might be fun to show up at school with the coolest bag on the block (boy has the popularity contest ever evolved), but I bet that dreamy football player would notice you just as much, if not more, with some good old-fashioned, free flirting.

Poor guy. If he ends up marrying one of these girls, he’s in for some serious spending. Designer handbags and new cars now, what’s next? Slow down girls. Patience really is a virtue. Save some of the good stuff for later when you’ll really appreciate it. You’d never catch me stashing my Dr. Pepper and half-eaten Snickers bar in this bag. And I’d never lay it on the bottom of my cart under the frozen pizzas like that. Somebody really ought to rescue that thing.