Tickled Pink

Due to some dumbass cutting something he wasn’t supposed to there was an “emergency” situation at Western this week. First off, no it wasn’t me. They don’t let me handle sharp objects at work anymore. A contractor cut a ceiling tile releasing asbestos into the air. Not very much as it turned out, but enough to set off the alarmbrains of our local Chicken Littles. Environmental Health and Safety shut down the building disrupting classes and forcing me to scramble to find new spots for them.

That was Monday. I re-located all the classes from the affected building and put together a plan for Tuesday, just in case. But the air was tested and determined to be breathable. The test wasn’t done until Tuesday night so I needed to get to work early on Wednesday to learn the result and implement my plan if necessary. The long and the short of it is I drove to work, which is a novelty. I also drove home, which got me there earlier than usual.

That’s when things got weird.

Ordinarily I’m greeted with a smiling face or two in the window and a like number of barking dogs. At the very least I’m greeted just inside the door by child intent on grabbing a leg and a couple of dogs with inquisitive sniffers. A warm, Rockwellian greeting to be sure, and I couldn’t hope for more. Tuesday the house was silent, but I could sense people in the backyard. I also guessed the neighbors were visiting, so the boys were justifiably distracted. Our new neighbors have two daughters who are the same ages as Lucas and Jack, so it’s a wonderful match. So much so that we may build a gate in the fence directly into their back yard so the kids can play more freely.

I took this rare free moment to put my things away, and grabbed myself an Otter Pop. As I was eating it my daughter came running in with an ear-to-ear grin, just as happy as she could be. Well nearly so, she wanted an Otter Pop as soon as she saw mine. Then she was pleased, and I was laughing with bewilderment.

It was Jack, wearing a dress. Not just any dress, a beautiful pink dress with lace accents. A princess dress, and he was thrilled.

Remember, this is the kid who nearly refuses to wear clothes. When he relents, it’s only to wear pajamas. You all know me, I’m not macho nor do I have many “hang-ups” about gender roles. So I’m not too bothered by my son wearing a dress, at least not at this age. I won’t buy him one, don’t get me wrong. Neither am I going to encourage it. I just hope it doesn’t become his latest obsession. When the neighbors had to go he didn’t want to take it off. They offered to let him borrow it, but I declined for fear that we would never get it off him.

******Make sure you cut this part out: Of course I don’t want him in a dress for chrissakes. If I did I would have named him Sue. Plus I’m worried about his well-being. I don’t want him getting beaten up all the time. Especially after he turns twelve, I figure by that time he’ll be able to take me and will have to collect his bruises at school.

The whole thing leaves me wondering what happens during the afternoon? If I had gotten home at my regular time the neighbors would have been gone and so would the dress. Does this sort of thing go on all the time? What else could Kim be hiding from me? I’m not sure I want to know.