Smacked with Reality

C.J. asked me a question the other day, “What era do you wish you were born in?”  He is often asking these types of questions like, “What war was your favorite?” or “If you were an assassin, what would your weapon of choice be?”  Yep.  He’s ALL boy.  He usually asks just as a way to be able to tell me what his answer is.  I know his motive so I usually answer the first thought that comes to my head, and then listen intently as he proceeds to tell me his answer and why.  He does honestly want to know my answer and why, but… he is twelve, and right now he wants to tell me his thought of the moment.

But on this particular day, he stumped me… or should I say my answer was conflicted.  “The Regency Era,” was my first response.  Most of you could have probably guessed that.  I write about it, read about it… fantasize about it.

I think of the Captain Wentworth’s and Colonel Brandon’s of the regency era, and I think who wouldn’t want to live back then?  All the dancing, and poetry readings, and gossip!!  Yep, sounds good to me.  Plus, I look SMASHING in an empire waist.

But then... women oppression, aristocracy, and simple lack of personal hygiene made me think about my answer, concluding it is a good era to write and romanticize about, not to LIVE in. I mean seriously they thought bathing by emersion was a SIN. Need I say more?

“I guess the 1950's.” I finally concluded. I could totally dig wearing dresses like these all day.

His answer? The Renascence Era.  So he could be an assassin, and live at the same time of Michelangelo.