And so, it was inevitable.
My 4th grader, at the age of 9 – she is shortly turning 11 as a 5th grader – has developed the poise, self-confidence, and perspective to give me her thoughts on my wardrobe.
I can’t say that they were really thoughts. Maybe they were! But they were more an overview of the entire wardrobe; not just certain components of it.
It started with nothing other than what I was going to be wearing to her 10th birthday. But by the time the conversation was over, about 45 minutes later, she was actually dissecting every piece of clothing in my closet.
I want you to understand that at first it was amusing. As she pulled out a shirt, or a pair of pants, or my shoes, and even a pair of underwear, and had lots to say about every single one of them: yes, at first it was amusing.
But as time went on, and the lecture from my soon to be 10 year old continued, it became somewhat less amusing and a wee bit more . . . painful, shall we call it?
By the time she was done, as she dated my clothing as having been purchased somewhere between the two great world wars, I got the distinct impression that there was nothing in my wardrobe that had any potential fit with the life she was living today.
What I got very distinctly, is that unless I planned on embarrassing my 10 year old at her first double digit birthday, I had to dress the way she wanted, which meant that she and Janet were going to have to go shopping to pick up something hip and young for me to wear to her birthday party – even though I was apparently neither.
In any event, by the time the evening wound down, influenced more by the fact that it was past her bedtime and the rest of us were in need of seeing the next edition of Mad Men, I got the point loud and clear.
According to Isabella — and probably Jordan and Jared too — I have clearly become my father. That makes me hovering somewhere between Isabella’s father and grandfather.
And apparently my taste in clothes is opportune for, or reflective of, my age.