Rosemary had barely poured herself a bowl of cereal when she heard the front door open.

"Dad?" she called.

"I'm heading to work!" her father answered cheerfully.

She walked into the hallway-and froze.

Her father stood proudly wearing *her* dark skinny jeans and *her* cranberry scoop-neck top. The jeans fit surprisingly well, and he had even rolled the sleeves of the top in what he apparently believed was a fashionable way.

He smiled.

"Well? It's National Dress Like Your Daughter Day."

Rosemary folded her arms.

"Hold it."

He stopped.

"What?"

She looked him up and down.

"A few weeks ago, when I was wearing almost this exact outfit, you told me I couldn't leave the house without wearing a bra."

Her father nodded confidently.

"I did."

"So..."

A slow grin spread across Rosemary's face.

"...where's yours?"

His expression changed from confidence to realization.

"Oh."

"You said everyone should wear appropriate undergarments."

"I... may have said that."

"You definitely did."

He sighed dramatically.

"Fine."

Five minutes later he returned, looking slightly embarrassed.

"There. Happy?"

Rosemary inspected him.

"The fit is much better."

"Can I go now?"

She stared at him another moment before shaking her head.

"No."

"No?"

She pointed dramatically.

"That is far too casual for the office."

He blinked.

"It's Friday."

"I don't care if it's Tuesday, Friday, or National Wear Pajamas to Work Day. If you're dressing like your daughter, you need to look presentable."

"I don't think that's how-"

"No arguments."

She disappeared upstairs.

Her father heard drawers opening.