Regular readers may remember that Oscar has been flirting with a little cross dressing on and off.
At the moment it is more off than on, although he is still hunting for the perfect skirt to go trampolining in.
In this weather he seems eminently sensible to me.
Despite his dressing being slightly more on the conservative side at the moment, the topic has raised its head in several ways. Namely due to the winner of the Eurovision Song Contest being a bearded bloke in a stunning gold dress.
We were discussing how to categorise him on the way to school the other day, as the children were arguing whether he could be a true transvestite because he had a beard, and Oscar wanted to know what a transvestite was and then moved on to pantomime dames and drag queens. it got quite complicated.
In the end we agreed that it is a right royal shame if people cannot wear whatever they damn well want to, and we wished that everyone would get on with their own lives and stop having a go at other people, and the more people there are in the world wearing facial hair and lurex dresses, the better the world will be.
On Friday, Granny came home from a shopping trip in town with a pair of neoprene surf shoes for Tallulah’s outward bound holiday. They are nifty little things in hot pink neoprene with pale pink swirls. Oscar was very jealous of them, and utterly delighted when they proved to be too small for Tallulah. He has now claimed them for his own and immediately put them on. I had already bought a blue pair, which were at home, and decided that if they didn’t fit Tallulah, Oscar could have them for our forthcoming beach holiday. When we got home they fit Tallulah perfectly. She was delighted. She preferred the blue ones. Oscar preferred the pink ones. Everyone was happy.
They went off to fling themselves around on the trampoline. Jason arrived back from the airport, and came and sat in the garden with a cup of tea and his book, unwinding after a long and stressful week.
The children yelled their greetings as their heads rose and fell above the wall of doors. Then Tallulah shouted: ‘Dad. We’ve been talking and Oscar thinks he’s probably going to be a transvestite when he grows up. I’m going to be his stylist.’
Oscar bobbed into view: ‘Yeah! And Tallulah’s going to be a girl transvestite, and I’m going to be her stylist.’
Jason put his head in his hands.
I patted him on the back and pushed his tea in front of him.