The Person Who Manages the School Uniform

The school uniform is, if you look at it squarely, a logistical project.

It begins in late July with the inventory: what fits, what doesn't, what wore out irreparably, what's been lost somewhere between the lost property box and the wash. It progresses to the procurement phase in August, which requires navigating the specific retailer that sells the specific logo polo shirt in the specific size — which is always slightly more involved than it sounds. It continues through the labelling — every item, every single item — which falls to whoever has the iron-on labels and the patience to do it while watching something on television.

This project has, for the years I've been a parent, been mine.

Not because he wouldn't do it. Because it never occurred to either of us that it was something to ask about. It was just — mine. In the same way that the dentist appointments were mine, and the shoe-size tracking was mine, and the mental note about the coat that needs replacing before it turns cold.

This year I said: can you do the uniform? Not help with. Do it. Own it from the inventory to the first day of school.

He looked slightly alarmed.

He did it, though. All of it. He even found a better supplier. He was slightly proud of this, which I found endearing.