Sleepwear

My husband has never been a believer in sleepwear - in that he doesn't wear it - or sleep in it. Whenever he needed to shush the boys in the night, he simply cupped his hand over his privates and walked to their door. I began referring to this state of dishabille as "Dad's pajamas". The children and I sometimes discuss how they will puzzle their future therapists with the inexplicable trauma of Dad's "pajamas".

A trauma that touched a branch of the family gathered for a fishing weekend in Louisiana. A trauma that strode through the central area of a large clubhouse at midnight, shushing all the rowdy male cousins. A trauma that quickly stumped back to the room where Allie and I were hiding when his mother started screaming, "Allen!"