Hey, that's my sweater

I encountered a problem in the past few days that I did not expect to confront for another four or five years. My nine-year-old daughter Yael came down for breakfast wearing one of my sweaters.

When I looked at her with that you-better-not-have-taken-that-out-of-my-drawer look, she fake-innocently replied: "I found it in my drawer so I figured it was mine." Yeah, right. I don't doubt that she found it in her drawer -- my cleaning lady isn't on a Solomon-like wisdom level, but the "so I thought it was mine" part just got me going.

I know she covets some of my clothes. Even though her closets are busting at the seams full of tons of fun stuff to wear, somehow my clothes seem more interesting to her. And while she is not that large and I am not that small, I know she is already thinking ahead to the days when my cashmere sweaters will be hers. One of her favorite lines while "helping" me get dressed for synagogue on Saturday morning is: "when you're dead, I want that (fill in the blank with an item of clothing)."

In actuality, she has pretty much laid claim to every last female item in the house in anticipation of my pending death. The crystal, my jewelry (Oh don't get excited, there isn't that much of it), my clothes, my shoes, and anything else that she has rationalized will one day be hers. I'm thinking of hiring body guards just to keep her at bay until I have time to grow old gracefully.

And just in case you are thinking that she is an unnaturally covetous child, I want to set the record straight with a funny story.

Two years ago, I was standing in synagogue after the festivities on one of the fun Jewish holidays (not to be confused with the solemn Jewish Holidays). I was talking to one of my friends, when I noticed her look over my shoulder and her jaw fell slack. "Those are my new shoes!" she said. Since she was talking about shoes I turned around to have a look as well. And there were her new shoes -- shoes she had not yet worn -- walking into the synagogue on the feet of her teenage daughter!!!!! And the best part was that her daughter wasn't even being coy about her footwear. She just thought it was natural. And I am afraid that that is the normal course of life. When your daughter turns a certain age you have to run for cover with every material thing you love.

No more hanging clothes on hangars. No more folding things nicely and putting them in the drawer. If you have an ounce of self preservation then you better be prepared to sleep with your favorite items under your mattress. Or, there is always Plan B -- 1-800-NOT-OUCH Bodyguards.