CHARLESTON, W.Va. -- "It's not fair," my middle-schooler complained as she wiped at her shirt with some tape. "Going goth isn't an option for me."
"Why not?" I asked. "You look good in black."
"Black angora?" said Celeste, displaying her T-shirt. It appeared to have been first misted with honey and then rolled in hair. "What self-disrespecting goth would go out like this? It's hard to pull off hard-shell when it's clear you've been cuddling a bunny."
Dust bunnies aren't the only creatures that reside in her room. There are live bunnies, too. Plus regular visits from other menagerie members.
"You're hardly the goth type anyway," I said. "You're too -- what's the word for it? Happy?"
"Someone who owns more than one chicken hat isn't cut out to be goth," I said.
(Note to Town Center Mall patrons: If you wondered about the tired-looking woman out shopping with her chicken recently, all I can say is I shouldn't have dared her.)
"Besides," I continued. "That goth look is so dated. Teenagers have been trying to shock folks with piercings and black clothes and black lipstick since the Dark Ages. Your generation didn't invent it. Come to think of it, I think I have a picture around somewhere of Grammy and PopPop with matching nose rings."
"I thought those were your folks," husband Geoff said from the kitchen, where he'd apparently been eavesdropping.
"You're probably thinking of that picture of Dad in a trench coat with his hair in a Mohawk, and Mom rocking her stiletto boots."
"I remember that picture," Celeste said. "Isn't that the one where you have a dinosaur bone through your nose?"