My name's Eric. I'm 6 here, it's 1960, and I knew I was different after this very episode! Oh how I LOVED that skirt! It swirled around and around like a dervish.
|"Pretty in pink!"|
Did anybody have a clue, when the cops brought me back from my impromptu solo promenade along Shattuck Ave., the busiest street in Berkeley?
Call the cops!"
There's something about a long silky scarf, petticoats and pearls - to make a pretty young thing like me feel BEAUTIFIL!
Old ladies always thought I was a girl anyway.
And this was an act of rebellion, of pure glamor.
I guess I wanted to get the feel for what it was like being a Princess. People noticed you. The scarf flowed nicely behind me as I sashayed away on a sparkly pink cloud. People honked.
"Hello? Police? Oh thank god! My little boy just took off... I think he's dressed up like a, a...princess!"
"Yes, a princess. He's into the girly stuff right now. He's only five years old. Please, you've got to find him, he can't have gotten far! Look for the flowing pink and blue scarves, they're his favorite."
An all points bulletin went out:
"Five year old in drag - look for blond curls - blue eyes - pink scarf."
It didn't take long and I was escorted back home right up to the front door, arriving in the back seat like royalty, holding up my skirts as I stepped out.
"Hi Mom! Guess what?!"
Mom didn't punish me. Rather, she held me close like I was her precious cherub.
The cops smiled. I was fabulous!
"Here Eric, go paint what happened!"
Fantasy intact, Mom took a picture while I created the latest masterpiece.