I looked up from the sink full of dishes to see how my husband had outfitted our son.
A short-sleeve floral print knit skater dress with elasticized waist adorned his body and white skimmers adorned his feet. White tights encased his legs and his short haircut was brushed forward to give him bangs that were held in place with a pair of white barrettes. A white purse, slung over his shoulder, completed the outfit.
His eyes were lightly made up --- just a touch of liner and mascara and a hint of eyeshadow. Pink lip gloss highlighted his lips and he might have had a light touch of blush, too, but I wasn't sure. Either way, his makeup, as well as his whole presentation was befitting a 12-year-old.
"What's the matter, Cammi? You look very pretty," I replied.
"Thank you, Daddy, but I can't go to school dressed like this," he whined.
"Why not?" I asked.
"The other boys will make fun of me," he replied.
"I don't understand why they would," was my perplexed retort.
"White --- after Labor Day!" he exclaimed anxiously.
Father and son, circa 1930.
Wearing Jump.