No black, Yes black

When my daughter was about eight years old, she went through an 'Emo' phase.
Was eight too young for a phase?  Maybe, I blame cartoons.
Anyway, she came home from school one day, bubbling over with excitement, because her class was going on an outing to the mall and, of course, she had 'nothing to wear' so there was a shopping trip in our future.

No matter what anyone tries to tell you, the power of cute packs quite a punch and somehow she ended up with an adorable black blouse and black jeans. Because the outing was at the mall (where those people seem to forget that Trinidad is a tropical island and should never be 17° C) she needed a jacket. Luckily, I happened to own a tapered black blazer with a long tail which fit my baby like a trench coat. Her hair was a jumble of twists and curls which were surprisingly easy to manipulate into something resembling a faux hawk.
 Can you picture it? 
Absolutely gorgeous!

At least I thought so until my mother saw my daughter on her return from the outing.

At no point did she say that black was not beautiful - because we all know it is - but she said everything else.

'Why in the insert-colourful-phrase -here did I dress my child in all black?'
'Was I crazy?' 
'Was I blind?' 
'Did I not know how inappropriate it was to put a child in black?'

I tried to counter:
She was completely clothed.
According to my mother, I was still wrong.
No navel showing. I was still wrong.
No off-the-shoulder, no halter, no cleavage-baring, deep v-neck.
I was still wrong.
No miniskirt, no figure-hugging sheath. (I had decided that she was not allowed to have a figure).
She was with her teachers, not on a date.
She was not wearing any makeup. (Although some black nail polish and eyeliner would have been the perfect compliment and tied the hold 'Emo' thing together)
Guess what? I was still in the wrong!

Just between you and me, to this day, I am still not completely sure what unforgivable hanging offense I had committed by dressing my child in a perfectly decent and beautiful suit of clothes but based on my mother's completely over-the-top and totally irrational reaction, it was a doozy!

But there was no way to win against my mother so, no to black.

One day, I think it was after a funeral or the death of a family member, my mother told me to make sure we turned our  underwear inside-out  before bed to keep out the wandering spirits.
That's not the strangest part.
She said we needed to wear black undies to bed. Yes, black!

After almost having my head bitten off, chewed, swallowed and regurgitated, why would buy my child any more black clothes?

I am not sure why I brought it back up but I opened my mouth and verbal vomit spewed forth.

'Are you not the person who forbid me, under the threat of grievous bodily harm, to dress my daughter in black?'

I don't know if her response knocked the smart or the stupid out of me but when she said, in her brook-no-argument tone of voice, that "This was different."
I said nothing...absolutely nothing.