My Son

My phone rang and I glanced down in time to see my wife's work number on the caller ID.  Uh-oh.  This could go either way.  Either I was about to be delighted by some fantastic new recipe that we were going to be trying for dinner tonight, or there was blood, vomit, screaming, and possibly, grade report.  I picked up the receiver.

"Hello?"

"Your son needs a dress," came the greeting.

Oh sure, he needs a dress so he's my son.  First of all I am almost certain that he does not need a dress and secondly, I have questions.  My stunned silence must have been very reassuring to her.  After a moment she continued, sounding very tired.

"There's some sort of play tomorrow at school and he's Goldilocks."

Of course he is.

"After school will you please take him to Goodwill and see if you can find him a dress?"

Nothing would give me greater pleasure than to take my ten-year-old son dress shopping at the Goodwill.

Now I'm starting to sound tired.

- 10 March 2014