So Short’s little friend Darling is over. Darling is a girl, and a girly-girl at that (let’s just say when her mom goes down the Pink Aisle at Target, she does a few u-turns and goes back up and down it maybe five more times). Feather boas. Sparkly tiaras. Dorothy glitter slippers. These are some of the more mundane, the more “normal” clothing options in Darling’s wardrobe.
The problem is: Short likes Darling. A lot. Not in the I-want-to-marry-you-when-I-grow-up way, but more in the how-would-I-look-in-a-ballerina-skirt-just-like-you way.
This is difficult for me to reconcile. Don’t get me wrong, my son is all-boy. Soccer. Mud. Cars. Lego's. Hitting. Punching. And that’s all before breakfast. It’s just that Darling intrigues him, and her luminescent pink world beckons. (To be fair, Darling is happy to try on Short's world of pirate get-ups and dissecting dead grasshoppers in the basement.)
The Husband comes home from work, and Short is wearing nail polish (again). The Husband is used to Short’s weekly playdates with Darling, so he merely shrugs and says, “Oh, purple now. That’s a nice color.”
Later, Short and I are at the toy store Christmas shopping. He’s entranced with StarWars paraphernalia, but a HelloKitty purse momentarily catches his eye. He stops to pet the fuchsia-colored sequin and satin bag.
“Mommy?” he begins innocently. I hold my breath and wait. “I think Darling would love this. Can we please buy it for her?”