I was chatting with a coworker last week and asked what his kids — a girl age 7 and a boy age 4 — were going to be for Halloween.
“They’re both going to be princesses,” my coworker said. “The only problem is that my wife gave them their costumes a month ago, and my son already ripped his dress.”
I don’t know whether the little boy regularly dresses up in girly/princess clothes, or whether he just wanted to copy his sister. Because all that really matters was that the dad and mom were fine with letting him wear a costume that the kid clearly liked enough to have already been playing in, regardless of what gender it might have been meant for.
“Well,” I reassured him, “As long as the rip isn’t so big that the dress falls off him, it probably doesn’t matter. Nobody is going to notice that sort of thing while they’re out trick-or-treating.”
“Oh I know,” he said. “Nobody cares except for my wife, that he ripped his dress.”
This is not a workplace conversation I could have envisioned 20, or even 10, years ago. And the whole thing made me happy.