Joshua, Take a Jersey

I can vividly recall the traumatic experience of traveling to the UK as a 10-year-old. Not because the trip was harrowing, but because I was dressed (by mom) in a pair of beige corduroy longs, with a beige jersey (so thick I battled to bend my arms, and I think it was size too small, which didn’t help) and beige suede shoes. Man mom was proud.

So … Joshua spent the first hot evening of winter '09 in a Bob The Builder gown. "I don’t think he'll need a gown," I offered. "Yes, but it's so cute," she said, ignoring the red cheeks and adjusting the little hat. I didn’t argue, but I was at Heathrow, '82, all over again. Poor kid he doesn’t stand a chance. Imagine the end of grade 9 subject choice conversation. "Ballet and the History of Politics? What kind of subjects are those. Maths and Science. As long as you live under my roof, you'll take Maths and Science." And he'll go on to design lingerie and hire people to do all the computation I would have done, and curse me for forcing him to do Maths and Science. I've put Bob The Builder's gown at the back of the cupboard, unwashed. I hope no one notices.