I always get terribly excited when Tyger comes up to me and says "Mum, can you sew me something?"
Here it is!, I think - my chance to fashion her into my own image, so I readily agree.
"What's it to be, kiddo?" I enquire in a casual tone, lest I betray the excitement making my heart beat so.
"A skirt, I think", she says.
Vision of skirt-based extravaganzas fill my mind. "Rightio! Shall we do ruffles? Or tulips? Maybe a tiered tulle number, perchance?"
This is where she shoots me down. Gently, but her aim is perfect. "No Mum - just a simple A-line skirt."
"Okey dokey", I reply, trying not to be deflated. "Let's talk colour! Bright yellow? Or maybe a textured emerald green? How about hot pink? I know I've got some somewhere!"
Once again she holds me off at the pass. "Just black, Mum", she says, beginning to look at me pityingly.
"Plain black? Right, can do. Shall we do some fancy tabs? Or maybe some statement pockets?" I reply, trying to keep the note of desperation from my voice. After all, who is this person? Is she no daughter of mine? Me, who loves bright colours, and crazy textures, and all the crazy things... how can this plain loving girl be the fruit of my loins?
"Mum, you know what I like - plain black, no pockets, simple corduroy with buttons. That's it!" she says, giving me her sternest look.
This, friends, is the point where I fall apart, I'm ashamed to say. "Not even a pocket? Or some piping? Oh for the love of the sewing gods, give me something exciting to sew!" I moan at her, piteously, I'm afraid.
She comes towards me, arms outstretched. "Oh goody!", I think. "Í'm getting a hug!" No such luck - instead she gives me a firm shoulder shake, and says "C'mon Mum - keep it together, man!" Stopping only to give me a last, slightly condescending pat on the shoulder, she says "Black, Mum. Plain. You can do this!"
And as always, my beautiful girl was right. I could do it, and I did. Presenting one plain black A-line skirt, as requested: