Awkward Mom vs. Dresses

So, I am huffing and puffing and yanking that Spanx on. OK, it was a Spanx knock-off. OK, it might have been a straight-up girdle. Point is, that is the exact moment that Super Kindergartener decides to walk into my room. I know we have had a talk about knocking, but spilled milk at this point. He looks at me. I expect horrified, but it is really more of a curious, yet disappointed look. Then, this happens:

Super Kindergartener: You don't need that, Mom.

Me: (Fighting tears) You mean because I am beautiful anyway.

Super K.: No. Because shorts under a dress is a terrible look. It looks bunchy and messes up the way the dress looks.

Me: (Deciding not to explore that the shorts are not really shorts, because how much does a 6-year-old need to know about shape-wear? None, that's how much.) Are you telling me that I am messing up the line of the dress?

Super K.: Is that how the dress looks on your body?

Me: Yeah, pretty much.

Super K.: Then, yes. Don't mess with the line of the dress. Hey, that rhymes! Super P., come here and hear my cool rhyme!

I have a BFA in costume design. I have not used this degree in about 15 years. OK, that isn't quite true. I use it once a year, when I watch the Oscars with my mother. And then this happens:

Me: Well, I guess peplums are in this year.

Awkward Grandma: Oh, is that what that is. Did I tell you how great Captain Philips was?

Me: Why do they insist on tulle? Year after year....

Awkward Grandma: I really hope Captain Philips wins, it was my favorite.

Me: That's a bold choice. Tangerine is a hard color to pull off with a deep tan.

Awkward Grandma: You know who was bold? The actors in Captain Philips.

We may have slightly different interests come Oscar time.......

I do not use my design skills. My life changed. My interests shifted. I started having babies. I got busy. So, I just assumed that part of my life was over. Or a weird dream. But then comes Super K. and now I know exactly where all those design skills went. They somehow crossed the uterine wall and landed right in that little whirling brain who has designed all the looks in this post.

The reason I was wearing the sorta-Spanx was because we were celebrating Super Baby's baptism this past Sunday and I didn't seem to think that the generous cut of the skirt, the box-pleats, or the fact that I was holding a baby in front of me for most of it was enough to hide the evidence of 4 pregnancies. Anywho, Super K. was an angel, but church can be long for even angels. (I am sure there is something about that in the Bible. Or maybe that was on Supernatural.....) He's getting bored toward the end, so he starts studying the box-pleats on my dress. I can see his gears turning down there, as he gently strokes the side of the skirt, looking for the origin of this shift in fabric and pondering how he can recreate it on his favorite princess dress.

I certainly enjoyed pretend play and dress-up as a child, but I didn't have anywhere near the skills he has. Those that I do have came later. He seems to have been born with his.

He'll make something out of nothing. Or rather, mom's nightgown and a fierce pose. His ideas appear to be endless and only limited by what's around. And his looks can shift from simple:

to complex:

to avant-garde:

To mainstream:

But what he prefers above all else is when someone will dress up with him. Luckily, he has siblings quite happy to model his inventive looks:

Super K. is generous with his design ideas and he is lavish in his praise. He is pretty much the best person in the world to show your new outfit because he will find something nice to say and he will also be pretty blunt if it doesn't fit. But mostly he is kind and just wants folks to wear sparkly things that make them happy. And isn't that really what the world needs anyway. Yes, it is. 

So, every once in awhile, I make Super K. really really happy and I play dress-up with him:

He's cool with it as long as I don't mess up the line of the dress....

All hail Super K.; the modern day Edith Head. 

Long may he reign. 

And long may we avoid the fabric store........