Prince Charming Awaits

Don’t be fooled by my housewife persona. Beyond these dirty sweats and unkempt hair, beats the heart of a modern woman.  A liberated woman with an open mind and a worldly point of view. A woman who hesitated when her son asked for the Cinderella toothbrush…

I actually responded, “Are you sure? Really? What about this ‘Sponge Bob’ one? It’s…umm, nice too”.

Yeah. Not my proudest moment, but mostly because I can’t stand Sponge Bob. I got him the Cinderella toothbrush. It now lives in a drawer with his Cars toothbrush.

When Scout was a toddler, he used to push around a doll stroller to the raised eyebrows and concerned glances of friends and neighbors.

“What does his dad have to say about that?” people would ask me before alluding to particular future tendencies of a “don’t ask, don’t tell” nature. (We were living in Texas, after all… )

Of course, I would then feel morally obligated to inform them it isn’t an interest in doll strollers, or even dolls, than makes boys gay. It was more like an interest in BOYS that makes boys gay.

Then, there would be blushing, covering of tiny ears, and fewer invitations to join Bible study. Come to think of it, none of them seem all that upset we moved away. Hmm…

Mr. D and I have never paid much heed to gender stereotypes. As a baby, Scout had just as many dolls and tea sets as he had cars and tool benches. Yet, all on his own, he gravitated towards construction vehicles, monsters, train sets, and all things “boy”.

We, in turn, were more than willing to indulge his interests (in a big way), but only because they were things he liked, not because we thought that’s what boys ought to like.

Over the past few weeks, I noticed that the tides turning. It only began with a Cinderella toothbrush…

After that he wanted the story to be read to him every night. Then, he begged for the movie. He wanted some Cinderella socks and a Cinderella backpack for school. He talks about Cinderella nonstop– asking what she eats, where she lives, who her friends are…

The other day, he asked if I could find him some Cinderella pajamas. I regretfully informed him that I think there’s only Cinderella nightgowns… for girls… but in all fairness, I checked if that’s what he had in mind.

I’m all for boys taking ballet and girls playing hockey, but does my son really want to wear a nightgown?

After much thoughtful consideration, he declined, but suggested that his sister, who is barely seven-months-old, probably wants one. “Get it for her RIGHT NOW…” he demanded, “Lou needs it!”

So last night, as I was giving him a bath, I ever so nonchalantly asked, “why this sudden unrelenting and obsessive fascination with Cinderella?”

It came down to this, in not so many words:

“The chicks dig it. I dig the chicks. So, I dig what the chicks dig.”

Watch out, ladies. One day, my son will be breaking cartoon hearts all over this fair land.

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