Good humor

His father and a young woman were with Rock to help him select clothes for an event that required he dress up a bit. He left it to them, and they selected a pair of khakis, a red plaid shirt, and his navy-blue sports jacket. Both were amused by the limited wardrobe in Rock's front bedroom closet and his indifference to their choices.

The woman was perhaps thirty years old. She had short butterscotch blonde hair and the trim figure and ruddy complexion of an endurance athlete, but what attracted Rock most was how pleased and humored she seemed by her current circumstance.
He handed her a pair of scissors so she could begin to trim the nearly endless threads that dangled from each button and button hole on his shirt and jacket. She and his father laughed, and Rock was delighted by the underlying spirit of the teasing that radiated from them.

"You can tell how often he dresses like this," his father said.

"This is the first time, right?" she said as she squinted to isolate one of the threads.