Last week my daughter came downstairs, dressed head to toe in girly camouflage. I call it girly because pastels were sprinkled amid the khaki and green. “Good morning Taylor. Wow!” I said, “That’s a lot of camouflage.” “Yes. Mommy picked it out.” She said drowsily rubbing her eyes. “The only thing she didn’t give me are a camouflage hat and camouflage socks.” I laughed. She continued, “Then, I could go to school and people would say, ‘Why are you wearing so much camouflage?’ And I would say, ‘I don’t know. My Mommy picked it out.’” “Well,” I suggested, “I suppose you could always tell them you’re trying to be invisible.” She furrowed her brow at me and said incredulously, “Umm…Papa, there’s no pink outside.”

“No.” I agreed, “I guess you’re right.”