"For my eyes? For the dilation to wear off? How long does it take, anyway?"
"Um, wander around the mall, I suppose. I'll take that one with me."
I gesture with a fork at the oldest as he walks past on the way back from the pantry yet again, oblivious to our conversation, focused on food and granola bar in hand.
"And what's he going to do?"
"He can look at stuff. He's at the stuff age. Oh, did I tell you?"
"Tell me what?"
"Last night he oh-so-casually said, and I quote, I usually wear a leather jacket."
"He doesn't even have a leather jacket."
"I think he's interested in acquiring one."
"Tell him denim's cooler."
"I think he's that age now. The age where we have to watch him make fashion choices we may think aren't the best."
My husband laughs. "Remember those really wide-legged Girbaud jeans? I had some."
"Marithe-Francois, ew, yes. Tell the truth: did you ever have a leather trench?"
"Um... a brightly-colored leather jacket with enormous shoulder pads? Or a Members Only jacket?"
"No and no."
"A denim jacket with leather shoulders?"
"Yes, a Guess one. And I had something worse."
"Overalls? Harem pants?"
"I had Levi overalls, but those weren't bad. They were pretty normal. No to the harem pants."
"Hang on, let me put this plate down. I want to be able to laugh with both hands. OK, I'm ready."
"Purple parachute pants. Tight ones with zippers."
"I bet the youngest would think so."