Here I am, fretting about my toddler’s insistence upon taking her pacifier with her to daycare and the playground, and Gwen Stefani just blithely trots her child out on a runway, in front of hordes of photographers, with a binky firmly planted in his mouth. Then again, here I am worrying about the size of my thighs and Gwen is out there parading hers in public in a mini-dress, so maybe I shouldn’t be so quick to assume that what’s good for the celebrity goose is good for the plebeian gander: you can get away with anything – bare thighs and binky-chomping two-year old – when you’re rich and skinny and adored.
Me, I’m not so rich and not so skinny (though I would like to think that I’m adored, just a little), so I’ll skip the mini-dress. But I’m rethinking my issues about the binky – I may not be able to emulate Gwen, but my kid’s just as cute as Kingston, so if he can rock the binky, so can she.
(photo credit: Vogue AU)