life with child

So I got my merit bonus at work in lump sum instead of a raise, which trust me, not a problem. So I told Child his share and what he wanted to do with it.

Child: I want to go see Fall Out boy in concert.
Me: You can't go alone.
Child: I'm not a child, it's a concert (imagine teenage arguments here. You know what they sound like.)
Me: I could go with you.
Child: Okay, we'll get up front. Maybe I can touch Pete Wentz! Can he be my new daddy if I catch him?
Me: ....well played. Let me think about it.
Child: I thought you'd see it my way.

I'm not actually worried about Child, per se, but it's a concert and this is new to him. If one of his friends go with him and he keeps his phone on, I don't have a problem with it. His second choice is hideously expensive shoes, which is weird, because Child isn't a clothing person at all.

Well, I take that back; he's picked up an inexplicable thing for suits that I can't explain, matched with a truly unearthly number of ties. I buy my kid random ties. I mean, this being Child, I'd feel a lot better about it if he was using them for evil, but no, he wears them without irony with really nice button up shirts, and it comes out of nowhere. Days of Child in school uniforms or maybe gym shorts and graphic t-shirts, then suddenly he wants to go shopping and browsing the tailor-this portion of Dillards or Nordstroms with a dissatisfied expression on having to (not) buy off the rack, because Child also doesn't understand what suits are used for.

Child: Why don't you dress up for work?
Me: I'm state and tech. Analysts aren't supposed to wear things that even match, so I'm one up there. It shows we're committed to the job and have no human attachments to interfere. They'd prefer I shower less, to be honest. Really show my commitment to my work and assure I'm not tempted to get a life.
Child: ....you're kidding.
Me: When's the last time you saw me wear makeup?
Child: You used to wear make up?
Me: I rest my case.

Child was actually very hazy on my days at the Ombudsman, which if anyone heres' been reading long enough, was a period of about two years I had to shop regularly for dress clothes as I had none, because no denim at all, no t-shirts, all business casual all the time, and because we were only three steps down from the Commissioner, that shit was taken seriously. I pulled out a few of my old slacks which he stared at in awe, then looked at me, dressed for work in a black tank top, batman t-shirt, black hoodie, skinny jeans, and my black chunk heels, and eyeliner, because that's not makeup, that's eyeliner.

Child: What people wear suits?
Me: You're gonna choose your job by the clothes?
Child: I like suits.
Me: I've heard worse.

Sometimes, I really like him.