“Look at me,” Isabella says, “I’m a nun!”
With Halloween just around the corner, my daughter’s tendency for dressing up has gone into overdrive. It’s the most fabulous time of the year, as far as she’s concerned: there’s the candy, the creepiness, and the chance to be someone else for a day. What’s not to like?

“This is not a good look for you,” I tell her. “Why not go with something more creepy?”
So far she’s indulged in fantasies about vampire costumes, witches, werewolves; basically, all the usual suspects have made an appearance. But this, this is new. I haven’t heard the word “nun” before.

She recently found out about nuns during a visit to the Joslyn Art Museum. It’s one of the best places to spend a Saturday morning in Omaha, and you can learn things. When we came upon a series of statues, depicting half-naked women with much cleavage, positioned with several nuns, I explained to her the age-old adage of the virgin and the whore. Don’t worry, she still doesn’t know what a prostitute is; however, she is old enough to know that women are sometimes treated as either good or bad, with not much room for grey areas. That, and I explained what a nun was.

Apparently it stuck; now she wants to be one for Halloween. “So not happening,” I tell her, “and besides, we already have a creepy witches’ dress.”
I guess I shouldn’t complain; at least she didn’t try to dress like a prostitute.

Maybe next year.

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