Transvestite Day in Seventh Grade?

Categories: Mack Daddy

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Transvestite Day in Seventh Grade?">

Today was "cross-dressing day" at my oldest son's (age 12) school.

Wasn't quite sure, as a father, how I felt about it all.



He's getting quite tall, is old #1 son. Also, for a boy, if I may say so and I'm not the only one saying it, almost literally every woman who comes through the door of the Daddy household remarks on it –is quite astonishingly beautiful: chestnut hair; hazel eyes; button nose; and a slow, reluctant smile that, as someone once said about the smile of Antoine de Saint-Exupery (him who wrote The Little Prince) "leaves a permanent wound on your heart."

So there he stood this morning, in one of his mother's dresses, a pair of her high-heeled thigh-boots (well, they were thigh boots on him: on her I suppose they only come to the top of the calf), and a pink ha t–and backpack: ready to head off to school.

Mack didn't know what to think. Literally, I did not know what to think. Was this just a bit of fun? Should I let him go to school like that, or not? Am I being a killjoy if I don't? Or, on the other hand, a bad dad if I do?

It was a tough parenting choice, I found.

"You can forbid it if you want," Mrs. Daddy said, slipping into her own pair of high-heeled boots (like just about every urban woman these days, she's been favouring the tight-jeans-tucked-into-sexy-boots look: Mack approves).

In the end I didn't. I advised him that I wouldn't do it if I were him. I told him about a brunch party Mrs. Daddy and I went to once where everyone was told to wear pyjamas to the party, but only Mrs. Daddy and I and one other guest actually did it, and we felt foolish and looked foolish the whole time.

(True, we made fast friends with the other guest, one of Mack's favourite friends, a woman named Miranda: we're still friends, some 10 years later: we felt so dumb, we couldn't talk to anyone else, so we talked to one another, and a friendship was born.)

"I like looking and feeling foolish," #1 son said.

So there you have it, my bloggies. To tell you the truth, I admire his insouciance and sauciness.

What would you have done, my bloggies? Let him go in full cross-dressing mode, or put your foot down?

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