The Pterodactyl wants me to buy him a purse. Obviously he’s gay. Which would explain his fascination with the hair dryer, his weird attachment to anything fuzzy, and his tendency to sing along to Taylor Swift songs. He’s almost five years old and he loves rainbows. Can there possibly be a gayer sign?
No, I’m kidding. He’s totally not gay. He is obsessed with trains, airplanes and volcanoes. He seems to love boobs. Two little girls in his class have crushes on him. He loves to smash his tricycle into things. He pees standing up. He’s as manly as a boy can get.
But....then again, he did ask me some questions about ballet the other day. He likes to put his stuffed animals in the baby stroller and push them around. He loves baking cookies. Now that I think about it, he really likes to smell flowers and take bubble baths and occasionally try on my dress shoes. He’s kind of a crybaby. I better call PFLAG (Parents and Friends of Lesbians and Gays) tomorrow.
Actually, though, he doesn’t like the color pink. So he can’t be gay.
Okay, you want the truth? The truth is that I don’t care whether my son is gay, or whether any of my children are gay. I particularly don’t care to speculate about my kids’ sexuality when they still believe in Santa Claus and think life’s climaxes are related to fruit roll-ups and the dollar bin at Target.
I’m surprised that not everyone feels that way.
Recently the Diva convinced the babysitter that she was allowed to watch You Tube, and she dug up a Black-Eyed Peas video in which Fergie wears a thong. Now, in all honesty, I find it unlikely that any living breathing thing on earth could watch that video and not feel some sort of twinge of something or other at the sight of Fergie wearing a thong. It really is something to see. So the Pterodactyl exhibited a predictable reaction: he stared and said, “I like her.”
I thought the story was funny and have told it to people. You know what a lot of them have said? “At least you don’t have to worry that he’s gay.”
This statement leaves me a little bit speechless, as I’m unsure whether to say: a. I don’t worry that he’s gay b. this one small incident does not mean he’s not gay c. I was slightly aroused. Am I gay? or d. HE IS NOT GAY!! HE LIKES THOMAS THE TANK ENGINE, FOR GOD’S SAKE!!
If he is gay, the biggest bummer will be that he probably will have to move to another state if he wants to get married. I don’t really care who he marries, as long as the person treats him with love and respect and is not a Republican. But I certainly would rather he settle someplace nearby so that when I’m old I can conveniently interfere in his life.
Hot Firefighter Husband feels the same way about all this. His biggest fear, I think, is that his children will not share his pathological obsession with the Boston Red Sox, an ailment that unfortunately crosses gender preference lines.
I like the Red Sox okay, but frankly I’m a little more dedicated to the New Orleans Saints, and I’m trying to pass that on to the kids. For one thing, I’m a Big Easy native. But also, the Saints uniforms are black and gold, with a cutting edge style that will never go out of fashion. Gay people love that kind of thing, n’est-ce pas?