Hunting for a Date

My quandary this morning, and in my life there is always a quandary, was whether I should share what I saw at dinner Saturday night, or the reason that I gave Little He and Little She brownies for breakfast yesterday. As compelling as the arguments may be, I think it is necessary to share this little nugget pulled from the depths of a casual dining experience with the family.

Let me begin with a little background. I love the south. I love grits. I love the traditions that accompany everything from whom is allowed to bring deviled eggs on Easter, to which recipe for giblet gravy should be served on Thanksgiving (and if it's at my parents' house, the gravy must be served from a turkey pitcher that looks as if the gobbler is ... losing his lunch, shall we say).

That being said, my introduction to the hunter and gatherer lifestyle did not occur until I met Mr. C. He introduced me to camouflage, duck hunting and cooking wild game. I still have reservations, but will cook anything that is already cleaned and butchered, and it must be said that I did spend part of our first anniversary 7 months pregnant in a dove field.

Mr. C has obliged me in one area. Camouflage is for the field (or river, or marsh, or forest), but not for public display. Little He and Little She have been introduced to it, but will not don camo for play dates. These are the rules.

Enter the restaurant. Saturday night in April, small Southern town. Prom night. At least five or six large tables of prom goers. On our way to the restroom I had to pick my jaw up off the floor as we passed by a table of two couples. The boys were wearing tuxedos, and I thought I saw a glimpse of a camouflage vest. I was only mildly interested until I looked over towards their dates. The girls - both of them - were wearing camouflage prom dresses. I could not stop staring. Luckily, Little She is a busy diner and provided the perfect cover for continuing to scope out the situation. She likes to visit the salad bar and restroom, so I had several opportunities to feed my curiosity.

I kept thinking that some nice, well-meaning grandmother must have hand tailored these oddities, requested by some eager-to-please teenage girls. But, no, google "camouflage prom dress" and see what pops up. These things are mass manufactured and marketed. If you so desired, you could even order a camouflage wedding dress.

It was the best people watching experience I've had in a good while. Mr. C doesn't typically comment on fashion, but he did note the profound use of neon-ish colors on many of the girls. Little He didn't really have an opinion on prom one way or another, and Little She loved the sequins and shoes. I, on the other hand, sit here three days later still pondering camouflage prom dresses. Now, I have acceded to the fact that if the girls had called me to add a bright orange monogram on the front, I might have had a completely different take on the situation.

Just in case you're wondering about brownies for breakfast, we can just chalk that up to a stressed out Mom wanting to smooth over a very rough Monday morning. And if you're now wondering whether it works or not, it does, but on Tuesday, they're going to ask for brownies again.