It’s not who you know, it’s what you wear. My good friend Anthony used to be a firm believer in that. Of course, he was chief buyer for Lord & Taylor’s haute couture division, and hobnobbed with supermodels for a few years, so he doesn’t really count. But more interesting is the fact that my choice in clothing seems to be taking on a significant meaning to Sam.
I have never worn a tie to work. I’ve been lucky enough in my career path to keep business casual as the upper limit of my dress code. I’ve worn the occasional tie, but more often than not, its khakis and a button down shirt. This combination, in Sam’s mind, now means that Daddy is leaving the house. Every day when I return from work, Sam says, “Are you staying?”
I inevitably answer in the affirmative.
“You can take your shirt off, Daddy.”
He is not happy until my “work” clothes are off and my “home” clothes are on.
I also usually sleep without shirt. And while the ladies out there are breathing lustily, Sam finds this unacceptable. This is strange, considering that given the choice, he would rather walk the earth naked and shoeless. Given the choice, so would I. When he wakes up in the mornings and comes into our room, the first thing he does after waking me up is to go over to my dresser and pull out a shirt for me.
I’ve purposely changed the drawers I keep my shirts in so he can reach them.