Not surprisingly, Peter refused to choose… until Mother said, “Well in that case, I’ll choose for you, and I’ll tell you now, you’ll be wearing a nice pink one… the only problem is, which pink one? You’ve got so many.”
“OK OK… I’ll choose.” Peter said. He settled for one of the blue ones… the only one that didn’t have a big bow on the front.
Having bought us two of everything, Mum placed one on my bed and one on Peter’s. “Now, would you like socks or tights?”
“Socks.” he replied.
“They’re in the second drawer down.” Mum said.
We opened the drawer to find a host of socks and tights. We complained that they were all girl’s socks. Mum asked us what we expected. We pulled on a pair of horrible white knee socks with flowery pasterns running up them, then mum told us to put on a vest from our knicker drawer. “And make sure it matches your knickers.” Mum insisted.
We stepped in to our dresses. Mum turned Peter around and began fastening the buttons that ran all the way up the back. Then she stopped. “Why I’m doing this when your brother could be helping you I have no idea.” she said. She sat on my bed and let me fiddle with Peter’s buttons. Then I turned around and Peter fastened my buttons. “Oh you look so sweet helping each other.” she gushed. Under our beds was a pair of girl’s shoes we never knew we had. They had fiddly buckles and a little heel. We complained that they were uncomfortable and hard to walk in. Mum said we’d get used to them. “And the important thing is they look nice.” she added.
Mum insisted on taking a photograph of us so she could show Granny how nice we look. To add insult to injury, she made us stand in the back garden, and hold hands! We ran back indoors as soon as we could, fearful that one of the neighbours might see us. We sat in front of the TV and watched what mum wanted… She-Beebies, the CBBC sister channel aimed at girls. It’s the last channel any boy would choose to watch.. in fact it’s too girlie for most girls!
I don’t know why, but I felt obliged to ask if I could go to the toilet. First mum insisted I say ‘mummy’ instead of ‘mum’, then she told me that I had to sit down to wee. “That way you won’t get any on your dress.” she said with a smile. “And make sure it doesn’t get tucked in when you pull your knickers up!” she added as I clumped my way up the stairs. It was weird sitting down to wee… but not as weird as the fact I could reach the floor with my heels on.
Mum made a point of checking my dress for splashes when I returned. When we ate supper, she made us each wear a white apron. Alice’s in Wonderland… she called us. I could see where she was coming from.
After supper, mother had us wash and dry the dishes… then the doorbell rang, and since I wasn’t wearing the marigolds… I had to answer the door.
“Hello Paul.” said Mrs Brown, grinning from ear to ear and trying to see around the door behind which I hid. “Don’t be shy… I’m sure you look very nice.” she said as she entered. I tried as best I could to keep the front door between myself and her, but once she was inside, my shield was rendered useless. I closed the door and hung my head. “You look like Alice.” Mrs Brown said as she looked me up and down; black Mary Jane’s, white knee socks, blue dress, white apron… and topping it off, my very boyish head.
“Hello Mrs Brown.” Mum said as she entered the kitchen.
“Hello.” she replied. “Peter looks like Alice too.” she said.
“Don’t they both look gorgeous?” Mum said proudly.
“They look absolutely delightful.” our teacher said.
Why she was in our home I have no idea. Mum told me to stop loitering and and to get on with drying the dishes, before offering Mrs Brown a cup of tea. They sat at the table and talked about us.”It’s amazing how much they’ve changed after only one day!” Mum said.
“Boys do find it easier to behave when they’re dressed nicely.” Mrs Brown replied. “If I had my way, every boy in my class would be petticoated.”
When we’d finished the dishes, mum said we could take our aprons off. They fastened with three buttons on the back between our shoulders, and a bow at the waist. After I’d unfastened Peter’s buttons, he unfastened mine.
“Isn’t it sweet how they help each other.” Mum said. “Now hang your aprons up nicely boys and show Mrs Brown your dresses.”
I plucked up the courage to ask why our teacher was here, in our home.
“Because Granny’s at bridge club tonight… so Mrs Brown has kindly volunteered to help with your bath.” Mum replied.
“But we had a bath yesterday.” Peter moaned.
“Princesses have a bath everyday.” Mother said. “Now why don’t you two go and watch TV for a while?”
Peter and filtered to the lounge, leaving our mother and Mrs Brown alone. She-Beebies was still on and neither of us dare change the channel. “Why is she here?” Peter asked.
“Dunno.” I gulped. “But I reckon if we don’t do as were told, everybody at school will know.”
“I think they’re bluffing about us going to school dressed as girls.” Peter whispered.
“But we already have the girl’s uniform… and even if we don’t wear them, mum has that photograph she took for Granny.”