"cool,"

I parked the car at my children's school this afternoon, snapped my phone shut and put a notebook back into the box inside my trunk. At the private school, parents shunning me after one look at my clothing choice is a common occurrence. I'm not interested in being friends with those particular parents either. But today I received feedback of a different kind. As I walked to the double doors where I wait daily for my two contributions to this school's good reputation, one fifth-grade girl in a sea of smudged paper, charcoal sticks, and numerous interpretations of the same tree, ignored the commotion and her art teacher to watch me approach. Taking one look at my Bob Marley t-shirt, she smirked. Checking out my cargo pants, beaten-up tennis shoes and again my shirt, her smirk became a smile and as our eyes met she said quietly, "cool." I remember thinking that about women whose style I admired when I was a kid, but when I woke up this morning, my only thought was of a day off, catching up on work and not giving a SHIT what I looked like. The fact that this girl was impressed with my outfit made me think, "cool" about her too.