A few days ago, while cleaning out the boys’ closet, I was folding Beanie’s pile of colorful pants. Bean was sitting next to me, fidgeting with a Lego thingy when he noticed the pile of bright pants. He stopped, looked at them, and said “Mom, I think I’m going to give all my pretty pants to Abby. I’m going to wear boy clothes now.”
Peering intently at him, trying to hide my surprise, I calmly said “Oh- well, OK then.” I thought for a second, then asked “What’re boy clothes, Beanie?
“Plain stuff, bugs and snakes. A red shirt is a boy shirt, Mom.”
We gathered up his pile of pretty pants and carried them into Abby’s room, and he skipped off happily, in navy blue sweats and a plain red t-shirt. Since then, he’s not even mentioned his flamboyant wardrobe. He’s wore khaki pants and boy shoes to church Sunday, and seemed perfectly happy to do so. And that, my friends, was that.
Mama is clearly having a harder time adjusting than Bean. We all worked hard to be open and not impose our prejudices- and he left his disco era by the wayside when he was good and ready. I’m proud of my boy, love him, no matter how he expresses himself, but I tell you what- it sure is harder to find him at the park now!